To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
This above all; to thine own self be true.
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
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
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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?
To be, or not to be, that is the question: 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: to die, to sleep No more; and by a sleep, to say we end The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub.
From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
To die: - to sleep: No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?
O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.
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.
Of course 'Hamlet' is a debate about the nature and morality of revenge and whether it is right to do something to assuage your angry feelings.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
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