William Shakespeare

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

Conscience doth make cowards of us all.

This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.

What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

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

For my part, it was Greek to me.

Angels and ministers of grace defend us.

An angel; or, if not,_x000D_ _x000D_ An earthly paragon.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall with our English dead.

Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.

Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.

If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.

When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is montegue? tis nor hand nor foot nor any other part belonging to a man What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, So Romeo would were he not Romeo called retain such dear perfection to which he owes without that title, Romeo, Doth thy name! And for that name which is no part of thee, take all thyself.

the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long.

For mine own part, it was Greek to me.

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.