I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none. This above all: to thine own self be true. No legacy is so… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills Requires slow… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.* — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self: a deadly banishment!… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. Julius Caesar (2.1.248-251)” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
