Quotes About Truth

Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

We that are true lovers run into strange capers. But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.

Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.

Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?

There is no darkness but ignorance.

Truth may seem, but cannot be; Beauty brag, but 'tis not she: Truth and beauty buriéd be.

O, but they say, the tongues of dying men enforce attention, like deep harmony: where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain: for they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. he, that no more must say, is listened more than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze; more are men's ends marked, than their lives before: the setting sun, and music at the close, as the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; writ in rememberance more than things long past

I'll read enough When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. Give me that glass and therein will I read. No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass, Like to my followers in prosperity Thou dost beguile me!

Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends.

Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, forked animal as thou art.

Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

My lord, will you be true? Who, I? Alas, it is my vice, my fault: Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit Is plain and true; there's all the reach of it.

Who makes the fairest show means the most deceit.

In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.

Too nice, and yet too true!

Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!

Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? HAMLET At supper. KING CLAUDIUS At supper! where? HAMLET Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table: that's the end.

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

Thou canst not speak of thou dost not feel.

The eye sees all, but the mind shows us what we want to see.

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art, As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; Or else of thee I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.