William Shakespeare

Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love." -

I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.

I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.

Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.

Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.

Nice customs curtsy to great kings.

Every subject's duty is the King's; but every subject's soul is his own. Therefore, should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes, it were no sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive the day to see His greatness and to teach others how they should prepare.

I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

One half of me is yours, the other half is yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.

When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner

Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see

The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.

To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.

Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less; Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

Good with out evil is like light with out darkness which in turn is like righteousness whith out hope.

Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all

Antonio: Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.

Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day.

To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.