Quotes About Peace

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage.

If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.

I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.

Innocent sleep. Sleep that soothes away all our worries. Sleep that puts each day to rest. Sleep that relieves the weary laborer and heals hurt minds. Sleep, the main course in life's feast, and the most nourishing.

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts...

La vida es mi tortura y la muerte será mi descanso.

Let me have war, say I: it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.

Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.

When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.

and the rest is silence

Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

The blessedness of being little!!!

A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.

Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, and, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy.

Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand...

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep: In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!

what? drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word as I hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee

Thrice to thine and thrice to mine and thrice again, to make up nine. Peace! The charm's wound up.