Quotes About Life

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and whiteNature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,If you will lead these graces to the graveAnd leave the world no copy.

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy,To follow still the changes of the moonWith fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubtIs once to be resolved.

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,Frosty, but kindly.

Hamlet: For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?Polonius: I have, my lord.Hamlet: Let her not walk i' the sun.

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

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.

Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit.

My fell of hairWould at a dismal treatise rouse and stirAs life were in 't. I have supp'd full with horrors.

Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;For treason is but trusted like the fox.

Spite of cormorant devouring Time.

His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mix'd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, "This was a man!"

Why, let the stricken deer go weep,The hart ungalled play;For some must watch, while some must sleep:So runs the world away.

O! that this too too solid flesh would melt,Thaw and resolve itself into a dew;Or that the Everlasting had not fix'dHis canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitableSeem to me all the uses of this world.

There is no sure foundation set on blood,No certain life achiev'd by others' death.

Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humor? No; the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

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

To live a barren sister all your life,Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.

And so, from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,And thereby hangs a tale.

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.

You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live.

The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try.

Falstaff sweats to deathAnd lards the lean earth as he walks along.

Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly?