William Shakespeare

Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

What is the city but the people?

Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well

Take all the swift advantage of the hours.

To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.

For he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally.

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.

I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.

I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man, in some other, a man a beast.

By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; a flower that dies when it begins to bud; a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.

Good counselors lack no clients.

This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.

Flout 'em, and scout 'em; and scout 'em, and flout 'em; / Thought is free.

I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.