
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.

When he 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 And pay no worship to the garish sun.

We know what we are, but not what we may be.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

You speak an infinite deal of nothing.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.

Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made.

Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars That make ambition virtue!

I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.

I love thee, I love but thee With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold And the stars grow old.

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee to me.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; The more I give to thee The more I have, For both are infinite.

A friend is one that knows you as you are and understands where you have been, accepts what you have become and still gently allows you to grow.

Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.

I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.

Maids want nothing but husbands, and when they have them, they want everything.

He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker, spare him; if stronger, spare thyself.

Love is not love when it is mingled with regards that stand aloof from the entire point.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.

Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Sweet are the uses of adversity, which, like a toad, though ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in its head.

He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man.

The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts...

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

The art of our necessities is strange, and can make vile things precious.