William Shakespeare

Men must learn now with pity to dispense; For policy sits above conscience.

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!

I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be; and be this so.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.

The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately— long love doth so.

Our wills and fates do so contrary run.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.

Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor? Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest. Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart. Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.

Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest,hurts the deepest,but feels the strongest

Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.

And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.

Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.

But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.

If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.

All that glitters is not gold.

He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.

When you depart from me sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.

So may the outward shows be least themselves: The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.

DON PEDRO Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one: marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. DON PEDRO You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools.

Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.