Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
Oh, I am fortune’s fool!
I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
People’s good deeds we write in water. The evil deeds are etched in brass.
O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Under loves heavy burden do I sink. – Romeo.
There was a star danced, and under that was I born.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Beware the ides of March.
Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne’er be younger.
Like madness is the glory of life.
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. Act V, Scene V.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.
If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear.
O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in’t!