“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”

“This above all: to thine own self be true.”

To be or not to be that is the question.

The prince of darkness is a gentleman!

Words, words, words.

Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.

In time we hate that which we often fear.

The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. Act V, Scene V.

O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in’t!

There was a star danced, and under that was I born.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

I despised my arrival on this earth and I despise my departure; it is a tragedy.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Women may fall when there’s no strength in men. Act II.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,- One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death!

Absence from those we love is self from self – a deadly banishment.

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.

Sweets to the sweet.

The robb’d that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; Some shall be pardon’d, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

No legacy is so rich as honesty.

“The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.”

Brevity is the soul of wit.

What’s past is prologue.

“To die, to sleep – To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...”

Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montagues.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

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

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead! 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.

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.

Beware the ides of March.

“They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.”

“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!”

“And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol’n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”

“I am not bound to please thee with my answer.”

“Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.”

“Discretion is the better part of valor.”

“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport.”

“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.”

“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.”