Quotes About Character

Virtue and genuine graces in themselves speak what no words can utter.

I talk of you: Why did you wish me milder? would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

So well thy words become thee as thy wounds, They smack of honor both.

Why did you wish me milder? would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves...

To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!

A good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye will wax hollow. But a good heart...is the sun and moon...for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps its course truly.

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

I think, said antonio , that the world is astage. Everybody has a part to play , and my part is sad part .

I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him.

Don't judge a man's conscience by looking at his face cause he may have a bad heart.

What kind o' man is he? Why, of mankind.

Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

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

do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.

But you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile.

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

Tis not a year or two shows us a man. They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us.

That which in mean men we entitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh,—

I think the sun where he were born drew all such humours from him.

If I lose my honor, I lose myself.