Quotes William Shakespeare - page 21

Find dozens of William Shakespeare with images to copy and share.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There\'s not the smallest orb which thou behold\'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

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.

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.

You may also like

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Henry David Thoreau

Thomas Jefferson

Dalai Lama

Martin Luther

Bruce Lee

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.

Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.

These violent delights have violent ends.

Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me--'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

Some say that ever \'gainst the season comes Wherein our Saviour\'s birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor wi

Some say that ever 'gainst the season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor wi

Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves.

His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.

In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.

The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.

You have but mistook me all the while... I live by bread like you, taste grief, feel want, need friends. Conditioned thus how can you call me king?

The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.

Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.

You may also like

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Henry David Thoreau

Thomas Jefferson

Dalai Lama

Wayne Dyer

Albert Einstein

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey\'d monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.