Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
To persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief.
Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
It is not, nor it cannot, come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
The apparel oft proclaims the man.
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
This is the very ecstasy of love.
But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?
[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.
The native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; and enterprises of great pitch and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: