"To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much."
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Quote collection
William Shakespeare quotes (page 188 of 202)
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"A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as dot an inland brook Into the main of waters."
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"Rashly, And praised be rashness for it--let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall, and that should learn us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will"
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"Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All many be well."
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"If yon bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight."
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"In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war."
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"Passion makes the will lord of the reason."
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"Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan The outward habit by the inward man."
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"Weed your better judgments of all opinion that grows rank in them."
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"Opinion crowns with an imperial voice."
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"If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am."
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"If money go before, all ways do lie open."
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"Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, and left me bare to weather."
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"Misery makes sport to mock itself."
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"Haply a woman's voice may do some good When articles too nicely urged be stood on."
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"Women's weapons, water-drops."
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"The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair; A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee."
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"What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds."
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"Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses."
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"But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not."
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