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.”

“I am in blood Stepp’d in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”

“The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.”

“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.”

“All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.”

“Oh, I am fortune’s fool!”

“Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.”

Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong Hark! now I hear them, – Ding-dong, bell.

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

I say there is no darkness but ignorance.

I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.

I am a man more sinned against than sinning.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

Summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

Love is a better teacher than duty.

Nine tenths of education is encouragement.

Those who know how to think need no teachers.

It is a wise father that knows his own child.

Teaching is the highest form of understanding.

For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.

When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.