Top 297 William Shakespeare Inspiration Quotes

Profession: , Birthday: January 28, 2021

The attempt and not the deed Confounds us.

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

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.

I am not bound to please thee with my answers.

O Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo

When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools.

...O brave new world, That has such people in't!

A little more than kin, and less than kind.

And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.

Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till by broad spreading it disperses to naught.

I must be cruel, only to be kind.

I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.

In false quarrels there is no true valor.

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

See first that the design is wise and just that ascertained, pursue it resolutely do not for one repulse forego the purpose that you resolved to effect.

The game is up.

There is a tide in the affairs of men Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

While thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head.

All the world is a stage and each and every person is a player

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, A brother's murder.

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence.

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.

He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.

I must be cruel, only to be kind Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

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

The devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

I wish you all the joy you can wish.

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 heartache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to,--'t is a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep perchance to dream ay, there's the rub 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 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 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 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.

For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother tomorrow.

A horse a horse my kingdom for a horse

But, for my own part, it was Greek to me.

Alas, poor Yorick I knew him, Horatio a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now your gambols, your songs your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar Not one now, to mock your own grinning Quite chap-fallen Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice take each man's censure but reserve thy judgement.

Hamlet Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel Polonius By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. Hamlet Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet Or like a whale Polonius Very like a whale.

He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.

Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.

For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.

To wilful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.

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.

This above all to thine own self be true.

The quality of mercy is not strained It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed- It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.

The soul of this man is in his clothes.

Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.

Be great in act, as you have been in thought.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.

The course of true love was never easy.

They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad.

Nothing will come of nothing.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.

What's in a name That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.

What's done can't be undone.

This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, And to do that well craves a kind of wit.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.

I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve.

O, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind farewell content Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars That make ambition virtue O, farewell Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell Othello's occupation's gone

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.

A plague o' both your houses

And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timbered oak.

But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture,Tell them that God bids us do good for evil.And thus I clothe my naked villainyWith odd old ends stolen forth of holy writ,And seem I a saint, when most I play the Devil.

Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.

He is not great who is not greatly good.

It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.

Our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.

Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.

The play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions.

No legacy is so rich as honesty.

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

Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

And thus I clothe my naked villainy With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.

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.

O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.

You cram these words into mine ears against the stomach of my sense.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,-- This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Excellent wretch Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

How far that little candle throws his beams So shines a good deed in a weary world.

I wish you well and so I take my leave, I Pray you know me when we meet again.

'T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us.Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damned,Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,That I will speak to thee.

Lady you bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins, And there is such confusion in my powers.

The rest is silence.

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

Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough

He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker, spare him if stronger, spare thyself.

In a false quarrel there is no true valour.

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest

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

First thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

For 'tis the sport to have the engineer hoist with his own petard...

Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.

His life was gentle and the elements So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN