Quotes About Humanity

What do you mean, what's the matter with him? Nothing's the matter with him, everything's the matter with him, the same as it is with everybody else. He's just fine. He gets overwhelmed now and then, and he doesn't know how to say what he feels or means, so he cries and runs off a little, trying to find out where to go, for God's sake. Where can you go?

People are people. Don't be afraid of them.

Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

Insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.All men make faults.

For to be wise, and love,Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.

Our basest beggarsAre in the poorest thing superfluous:Allow not nature more than nature needs,Man's life is cheap as beast's.

I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.

What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba,That he should weep for her?

Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on 's are sophisticated; thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come; unbutton here.

O, what may man within him hide,Though angel on the outward side!

How many ages henceShall this our lofty scene be acted o'er,In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

I am a manMore sinn'd against than sinning.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth? We are arrant knaves, all.

But men are men; the best sometimes forget.

Blow, blow, thou Winter Wind, Thou art not so unkind, as Man's Ingratitude...

Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?

God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.

O! pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,That I am meek and gentle with these butchers;Thou art the ruins of the noblest manThat ever lived in the tide of times.

When he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.