Quotes About Romeo

O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo: but else, not for the world.

Within the infant rind of this weak flower Poison hath residence and medicine power' Romeo and Juliet, II, iii

Y ahí estaba Edith, dorada y radiante como el sol. Romeo había dicho lo mismo de Julieta; ese amor había tenido un destino funesto, pero para ellos…

And I just think that to introduce an unknown Shakespeare is thrilling, too - not to do Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet, to do the richer Shakespeare. People will come to this and not know the story.

I read too many romance novels during my formative years. I have a penchant for romantic comedies. I understand why 'Romeo and Juliet' came to such a pass.

Stories become great by hacking your brain. Nothing that happens in fiction matters. The people in fiction are fictional so their triumphs and tragedies have literally no consequence. The death of the yogurt you doomed to a fiery death in your gut acid this morning is finitely more tragic than the deaths of Romeo and Juliet. The yogurt was alive and then it died. Romeo and Juliet never lived in the first place.

For a role model, I used Juliet's old nurse in Romeo and Juliet: a good-hearted fussbudget, a woman who spoke her piece but knew her place.

I want to be Tragedy, I want to be Juliet, I want to be Romeo. Thus with a kiss I die.

I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.

Sibyl Vane to love me! I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. My God, Harry, how I worship her! He was walking up and down the room as he spoke. Hectic spots of red burned on his cheeks. He was terribly excited.

If Shakespeare had lived in our age, he would have been sued for writing Romeo And Juliet, because as everybody knows, he plagiarized that from an Italian play.

Sounds like you're worried—maybe you have feelings for Miss Dandridge." Narrowing his eyes, William scowled. "You're the Romeo, not me." Tyler studied him for a moment. "Not this time. You look a mite lovesick, if you ask me." "Well, I'm not.

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night; Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night...

I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Escalus, Prince of Verona. Paris, a young Nobleman, kinsman to the Prince. Montague,}Heads of two Houses at variance with each other. Capulet, } An Old Man, Uncle to Capulet. Romeo, Son to Montague. Mercutio, Kinsman to the Prince, and Friend to Romeo. Benvolio, Nephew to Montague, and Friend to Romeo. Tybalt, Nephew to Lady Capulet.

Now Romeo is beloved, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks.

Sir Kenneth MacMillan's version of 'Romeo and Juliet' is my favorite full-length ballet, Sergei Prokofiev's breathtaking score a favorite composition of music. As a student of martial arts, I loved drawing my sword in defense of my Capulet kin.

That's the thing about small-town boys. All they had to do was come up with that one shtick, a crack at just the right time, or a Hail Mary touchdown, or nail the part of Romeo in the class play, and they were set. They never had to try again. Here's the thing about small-town girls: we let them get away with it.

His voice was like honey and velvet. "Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty," he murmured, and I recognized the line spoken by Romeo in the tomb.

In the Victorian age, actors played Romeo until they were 60 or 70 years old.

Now, whom are we here to conspire against?' 'Poetry,' I said. 'Namely, Romeo's poetry.' 'Is it that bad?

why Edward Bonshaw had been so attached to it? "A glooming peace this morning with it brings"—well, yes, and why would such darkness ever depart? Who can happily think of what else happened to Juliet and her Romeo, and not dwell on what happened to them at the end of their story?