To be, or not to be, that is the question.
This above all: to thine own self be true.
The lady protests too much, methinks.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
In my mind’s eye.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.
To sleep, perchance to dream.
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
Give me that man that is not passion’s slave.
The plays the thing, wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties.
Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal.
When we our betters see bearing our woes, we scarcely think our miseries our foes.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
The rest is silence.
I must be cruel, only to be kind.
Give me my father.
Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
This is the very ecstasy of love.
The glass of fashion and the mold of form.
What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba?
Diseases desperate grown by desperate appliance are relieved, or not at all.
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth.
When words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain.
Give me a seat of advantage.
To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub.
More matter with less art.
The time is out of joint.
This is the very ecstasy of love.
The rest is silence.
This above all: to thine own self be true.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties.
Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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