Quotes from William Shakespeare

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.

Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.

Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.

Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.

When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

We know what we are, but not what we may be.

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.

You speak an infinite deal of nothing.

Words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.