Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.
We are oft to blame in this, – ’tis too much proved – that with devotion’s visage and pious action we do sugar o’er the devil himself.
Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
This above all: to thine own self be true.
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
What a piece of work is a man!
Alas, poor Yorick!
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
The play’s the thing.
Get thee to a nunnery.
In my mind’s eye.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Give me that man that is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him in my heart’s core.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth.
O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
The time is out of joint.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
When he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?
To sleep, perchance to dream.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
The apparel oft proclaims the man.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
The readiness is all.
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.
God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
We know what we are, but not what we may be.
I must be cruel, only to be kind.
Words, words, words.
Tis now the very witching time of night.
Doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.
Give me my robe, put on my crown.
Goodnight sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties.
Let Hercules himself do what he may, the cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
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