William Shakespeare

O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.

Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly.

Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.

But till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, and excellent musician and her hair shall be of what colour it shall please God.

Do you take me for a sponge, my lord? hamlet: Ay, sir; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. rosencrantz: I understand you not, my lord. hamlet: I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.

I'll note you in my book of memory.

Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

Small things make base men proud.

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.

O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.' Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces

If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers

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

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.

As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue

I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.

'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible true, that thou art beauteous truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal.

Fair Katherine, and most fair,_x000D_ _x000D_ Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms_x000D_ _x000D_ Such as will enter at a lady's ear,_x000D_ _x000D_ And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?

The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.