Quotes from William Shakespeare

The empty vessel makes the loudest sound.

Frame your mind to mirth and merriment which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

My way of life Is fall'n into the sear and yellow leaf.

'Tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.

Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.

How well he's read, to reason against reading!

The attempt and not the deed confounds us.

Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.

Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad.

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!

Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

Ay me! sad hours seem long.

In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.

Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.

It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But bad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower?