Beware the ides of March.
Et tu, Brute?
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
A coward dies a thousand deaths.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, all the interim is like a phantasm or a hideous dream.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he.
How many ages hence shall this, our lofty scene, be acted over in states unborn and accents yet unknown?
I have lived long enough to satisfy both nature and glory.
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
In such a time as this it is not meet that every nice offense should bear his comment.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
No, Caesar shall not. Danger knows full well, that Caesar is more dangerous than he.
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Beware the ides of March.
Et tu, Brute?
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
A coward dies a thousand deaths.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, all the interim is like a phantasm or a hideous dream.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he.
How many ages hence shall this, our lofty scene, be acted over in states unborn and accents yet unknown?
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