As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
William ShakespeareRead
Such an act_x000D_ _x000D_ That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;_x000D_ _x000D_ Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose_x000D_ _x000D_ From the fair forehead of an innocent love,_x000D_ _x000D_ And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows_x000D_ _x000D_ As false as dicers' oaths.
Interpretation
This quote warns about the dangers of hypocrisy in love and marriage.
In this excerpt, Shakespeare reflects on how actions that undermine modesty and innocence can corrupt true love and authenticity in relationships. He suggests that when virtue is shown to be hypocritical, it taints the purity of love and makes vows of marriage seem deceitful, comparing them to the false promises of gamblers.
In practice
This quote can be used in a wedding speech to remind couples about the importance of honesty in their vows.
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.
Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!
Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
Know that My Heart is mercy itself. From this sea of mercy graces flow out upon the world....I desire that your heart be an abiding place of My mercy. I desire that this mercy flow out upon the whole world through your heart.
I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them. Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.
They sin who tell us Love can die: with Life all other passions fly, all others are but vanity.
It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
It is better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride.
Did you ever, in that wonderland wilderness of adolesence [sic] ever, quite unexpectedly, see something, a dusk sky, a wild bird, a landscape, so exquisite terror touched you at the bone? And you are afraid, terribly afraid the smallest movement, a leaf, say, turning in the wind, will shatter all? That is, I think, the way love is, or should be: one lives in beautiful terror.
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