O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow.
These violent delights have violent ends.
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.
What light through yonder window breaks?
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, but love from love, towards school with heavy looks.
In delay there lies no plenty.
Give me my Romeo, and when he shall die, take him and cut him into little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.
Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.
Two households, both alike in dignity.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek!
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!
Romeo and Juliet Quotes part 2
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
Young men’s love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
O happy dagger, this is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die.
What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end.
This is thy sheath; there rest, and let me die.
For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear.
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Oh, true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss, I die.
Tempt not a desperate man.
Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night.
There is no world without Verona walls, but purgatory, torture, hell itself.
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
O, I am fortune’s fool!
Then I defy you, stars!
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris!
But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O that I were a glove upon that hand!
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word as I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee.
It is my soul that calls upon my name.
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings.
And when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Be First to Comment