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Love's Not Love When It Is Mingled With Regards That Stand Aloof From Th' Entire Point.

-William Shakespeare

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Love's Not Love When

William Shakespeare

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Love's Not Love When It Is Mingled With Regards That Stand Aloof From Th' Entire Point.

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So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

Nor Aught So Good But Strained From That Fair Use, Revolts From True Birth Stumbling On Abuse.

Let Men Say We Be Men Of Good Government, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By Our Noble And Chaste Mistress The Moon, Under Whose Countenance We Steal.

Celebrity Is Never More Admired Than By The Negligent.

And Send Him Many Years Of Sunshine Days!

She Marking Them Begins A Wailing Note And Sings Extemporally A Woeful Ditty How Love Makes Young Men Thrall And Old Men Dote How Love Is Wise In Folly, Foolish-witty Her Heavy Anthem Still Concludes In Woe, And Still The Choir Of Echoes Answer So.

For Death Remembered Should Be Like A Mirror, Who Tells Us Life’s But Breath, To Trust It Error.

O Most Delicate Fiend! Who Is't Can Read A Woman? Is There More?

Shall I Never See A Bachelor Of Three Score Again?

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured.

O, That This Too Too Solid Flesh Would Melt Thaw And Resolve Itself Into A Dew! Or That The Everlasting Had Not Fix'd His Canon 'gainst Self-slaughter! O God! God! How Weary, Stale, Flat And Unprofitable, (135) Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World! Fie On't! Ah Fie! 'tis An Unweeded Garden, That Grows To Seed; Things Rank And Gross In Nature Possess It Merely. That It Should Come To This! But Two Months Dead: Nay, Not So Much, Not Two: (140) So Excellent A King; That Was, To This.

If Ever Thou Be'st Bound In Thy Scarf And Beaten, Thou Shalt Find What It Is To Be Proud Of Thy Bondage.

Your Lordship, Though Not Clean Past Your Youth, Have Yet Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltiness Of Time.

The Presence Of A King Engenders Love Amongst His Subjects, And His Royal Friends.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

Done To Death By Slanderous Tongue

Then Hate Me When Thou Wilt, If Ever, Now.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.

For Thou Hast Given Me In This Beauteous Face A World Of Earthly Blessings To My Soul, If Sympathy Of Love Unite Our Thoughts.

This Sleep Is Sound Indeed; This Is A Sleep That From This Golden Rigol Hath Divorc'd So Many English Kings.

If You Spend Word For Word With Me, I Shall Make Your Wit Bankrupt.

Let's Meet As Little As We Can

I Say There Is No Darkness But Ignorance.

And By That Destiny To Perform An Act Whereof What's Past Is Prologue, What To Come In Yours And My Discharge.

There Is None But He Whose Being I Do Fear; And Under Him My Genius Is Rebuked, As It Is Said Mark Antony's Was By Caesar.

Put Money In Thy Purse.

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears; I Come To Bury Caesar, Not To Praise Him.

All The World's A Stage.

A Hundred Thousand Welcomes: I Could Weep, And I Could Laugh; I Am Light And Heavy: Welcome.

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell. Though All Things Foul Would Wear The Brows Of Grace, Yet Grace Must Still Look So.

The Lunatic, The Lover, And The Poet, Are Of Imagination All Compact.

Imagination Creativity

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine. I Have Not That Alacrity Of Spirit Nor Cheer Of Mind That I Was Wont To Have.

Let Me Have Men About Me That Are Fat... Yond Cassius Has A Lean And Hungry Look. He Thinks Too Much: Such Men Are Dangerous.

Drown Thyself? Drown Cats And Blind Puppies.

Hereafter, In A Better World Than This, I Shall Desire More Love And Knowledge Of You

After Your Death You Were Better Have A Bad Epitaph Than Their Ill Report While You Live.

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question.

A Plague On Both Your Houses.

O, What Men Dare Do! What Men May Do! What Men Daily Do, Not Knowing What They Do.

What Is Aught But As 'tis Valued?

No Place Indeed Should Murder Sanctuarize; Revenge Should Have No Bounds.

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

The Let-alone Lies Not In Your Good Will.

Olivia: What's A Drunken Man Like, Fool? Feste: Like A Drowned Man, A Fool, And A Madman: One Draught Above Heat Makes Him A Fool; The Second Mads Him; And A Third Drowns Him.

And Caesar Shall Go Forth.

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.

I Have Almost Forgotten The Taste Of Fears: The Time Has Been, My Senses Would Have Cool’d To Hear A Night-shriek; And My Fell Of Hair Would At A Dismal Treatise Rouse And Stir As Life Were In’t: I Have Supt Full With Horrors; Direness, Familiar To My Slaughterous Thoughts, Cannot Once Start Me.

There's Nothing Ill Can Dwell In Such A Temple. If The Ill Spirit Have So Fair A House, Good Things Will Strive To Dwell With't

Cheerily To Sea; The Signs Of War Advance: No King Of England, If Not King Of France

O Comfort-killing Night, Image Of Hell, Dim Register And Notary Of Shame, Black Stage For Tragedies And Murders Fell, Vast Sin-concealing Chaos, Nurse Of Blame!

The Trust I Have Is In Mine Innocence, And Therefore Am I Bold And Resolute.

Hell Is Empty And All The Devils Are Here.

O Gentle Son, Upon The Heat And Flame Of Thy Distemper, Sprinkle Cool Patience.

Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come

We That Are True Lovers Run Into Strange Capers.

Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feelings As To Sight?

Why Should You Think That I Should Woo In Scorn? Scorn And Derision Never Come In Tears: Look, When I Vow, I Weep; And Vows So Born, In Their Nativity All Truth Appears. How Can These Things In Me Seem Scorn To You, Bearing The Badge Of Faith, To Prove Them True?

Conscience Doth Make Cowards Of Us All.

What To Ourselves In Passion We Propose, The Passion Ending, Doth The Purpose Lose.

Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter!

You Draw Me, You Hard-hearted Adamant; But Yet You Draw Not Iron, For My Heart Is True As Steel: Leave You Your Power To Draw, And I Shall Have No Power To Follow You.

One Sin Another Doth Provoke.

Love Thrives Not In The Heart That Shadows Dreadeth

By How Much Unexpected, By So Much We Must Awake Endeavour For Defence; For Courage Mounteth With Occasion.

Friendly Counsel Cuts Off Many Foes.

Oh, I Have Passed A Miserable Night, So Full Of Ugly Sights, Of Ghastly Dreams!

What Should We Speak Of When We Are Old As You? When We Shall Hear The Rain And Wind Beat Dark December? How, In This Our Pinching Cave, Shall We Discourse The Freezing Hours Away?

Proper Deformity Shows Not In The Fiend So Horrid As In Woman.

Cease Thy Counsel, For Thy Words Fall Into My Ears As Priceless As Water Into A Seive.

Take But Degree Away, Untune That String, And Hark, What Discord Follows!

Give It An Understanding, But No Tongue.

Where Hateful Death Put On His Ugliest Mask.

O For A Muse Of Fire, That Would Ascend The Brightest Heaven Of Invention, A Kingdom For A Stage, Princes To Act And Monarchs To Behold The Swelling Scene!

In Struggling With Misfortunes Lies The True Proof Of Virtue.

I Can No Other Answer Make, But, Thanks, And Thanks.

Alas, That Love, So Gentle In His View, Should Be So Tyrannous And Rough In Proof! *it’s Sad. Love Looks Like A Nice Thing, But It’s Actually Very Rough When You Experience It.*

The Eye Sees All, But The Mind Shows Us What We Want To See.

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

I Am Indeed, Sir, A Surgeon To Old Shoes; When They Are In Great Danger I Recover Them.

Where Shall We Three Meet Again In Thunder, Lightning, Or In Rain? When The Hurlyburly 's Done, When The Battle 's Lost And Won

Light And Lust Are Deadly Enemies.

What's His Offense? Groping For Trout In A Peculiar River.

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

All Surfeit Is The Father Of Much Fast.

Measure For Measure

Your Wisdom Is Consum'd In Confidence. Do Not Go Forth To-day.

Fie, Fie Upon Her! There's Language In Her Eye, Her Cheek, Her Lip, Nay, Her Foot Speaks; Her Wanton Spirits Look Out At Every Joint And Motive Of Her Body.

Dispute Not With Her: She Is Lunatic.

Call Me What Instrument You Will, Though You Can Fret Me, You Cannot Play Upon Me.

Important Hamlet

Bad Is The Trade That Must Play Fool To Sorrow, Ang'ring Itself And Others.

So Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine, And I My Self Am Mortgaged To Thy Will, My Self I'll Forfeit, So That Other Mine, Thou Wilt Restore To Be My Comfort Still.

Season Your Admiration For A While.

Swear Me, Kate, Like A Lady As Thou Art, A Good Mouth-filling Oath.

If I Be Waspish, Best Beware My Sting.

Mend When Thou Canst; Be Better At Thy Leisure.

'tis Better To Bear The Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of.

Hamlet And Ophelia

I Have Ventured, Like Little Wanton Boys That Swim On Bladders, This Many Summers In A Sea Of Glory, But Far Beyond My Depth. My High-blown Pride At Length Broke Under Me, And Now Has Left Me, Weary And Old With Service, To The Mercy Of A Rude Stream That Must For Ever Hide Me.

Very Good Orators, When They Are Out, They Will Spit; And For Lovers, Lacking--god Warn Us!--matter, The Cleanliest Shift Is To Kiss.

To Business That We Love We Rise Betime, And Go To't With Delight.

Experience Is By Industry Achieved, And Perfected By The Swift Course Of Time.

We Do Pray For Mercy, And That Same Prayer Doth Teach Us All To Render The Deeds Of Mercy.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate: Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May, And Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date . . .

I Pray You, Do Not Fall In Love With Me, For I Am Falser Than Vows Made In Wine.

Benvolio- "by My Head, Here Come The Capulets." Mercutio- "by My Heel, I Care Not.

In Maiden Meditation, Fancy Free.

Good Company, Good Wine, Good Welcome, Can Make Good People.

The Stroke Of Death Is As A Lover's Pinch, Which Hurts And Is Desired.

And, Looking On It With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, "it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See," Quoth He, "how The World Wags."

Ay Me! For Aught That Ever I Could Read, Could Ever Hear By Tale Or History, The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth.

Time Is A Very Bankrupt And Owes More Than He's Worth To Season. Nay, He's A Thief Too: Have You Not Heard Men Say, That Time Comes Stealing On By Night And Day?

Defer No Time, Delays Have Dangerous Ends.

Procrastination

There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends, Rough-hew Them How We Will.

Denmark In Hamlet

Hamlet And Ophelia

The Icy Precepts Of Respect.

Every Cloud Engenders Not A Storm.

Merciful Heaven, Thou Rather With Thy Sharp And Sulphurous Bolt Splits The Unwedgeable And Gnarled Oak Than The Soft Myrtle; But Man, Proud Man, Dressed In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured His Glassy Essence--like An Angry Ape Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven As Makes The Angels Weep; Who, With Our Spleens, Would All Themselves Laugh Mortal.

Here's That Which Is Too Weak To Be A Sinner, Honest Water, Which Ne'er Left Man I' The Mire.

For Oaths Are Straws, Men's Faiths Are Wafer-cakes, And Hold-fast Is The Only Dog.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun.

I Have Thought Some Of Nature's Journeymen Had Made Men And Not Made Them Well, They Imitated Humanity So Abominably.

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

They Love Least That Let Men Know Their Loves.

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.

All Thy Vexations Were But My Trials Of Thy Love, And Thou Hast Strangely Stood The Test; Here, Afore Heaven, I Ratify This My Rich Gift.

My Love Is Deep; The More I Give To Thee, The More I Have, Both Are Infinite.

I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath Pursued Me

Before The Curing Of A Strong Disease, Even In The Instant Of Repair And Health, The Fit Is Strongest. Evils That Take Leave, On Their Departure Most Of All Show Evil.

Our Peace Shall Stand As Firm As Rocky Mountains.

The Horn, The Horn, The Lusty Horn Is Not A Thing To Laugh To Scorn.

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows Make.

Now, God Be Praised, That To Believing Souls Gives Light In Darkness, Comfort In Despair.

My Conscience Hath A Thousand Several Tongues, And Every Tongue Brings In A Several Tale, And Every Tale Condemns Me For A Villain. Perjury, Perjury, In The High'st Degree; Murder, Stern Murder In The Dir'st Degree, Throng To The Bar, Crying All, 'guilty!, Guilty!

O, What A Goodly Outside Falsehood Hath!

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

Leonato Neighbours, You Are Tedious. Dogberry It Pleases Your Worship To Say So, But We Are The Poor Duke's Officers; But Truly, For Mine Own Part, If I Were As Tedious As A King, I Could Find It In My Heart To Bestow It All Of Your Worship.

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

In Springtime, The Only Pretty Ring Time Birds Sing, Hey Ding A-ding, A-ding Sweet Lovers Love The Spring—

This Tyrant, Whose Sole Name Blisters Our Tongues,was Once Thought Honest.

Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come; Love Alters Not With His Brief Hours And Weeks, But Bears It Out Even To The Edge Of Doom. If This Be Error And Upon Me Prov'd, I Never Writ, Nor No Man Ever Lov'd.

I Am Wrapped In Dismal Thinking.

For I Am Nothing If Not Critical.

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

One Fairer Than My Love? The All-seeing Sun Ne'er Saw Her Match Since First The World Begun.

Romeo And Juliet Love

Foul Whisperings Are Abroad

At Christmas I No More Desire A Rose Than Wish A Snow In May's New-fangled Mirth; But Like Of Each Thing That In Season Grows.

Why, What's The Matter, That You Have Such A February Face, So Full Of Frost, Of Storm And Cloudiness?

If There Be No Great Love In The Beginning, Yet Heaven May Decrease It Upon Better Acquaintance, When We Are Married And Have More Occasion To Know One Another: I Hope, Upon Familiarity Will Grow More Contempt.

I Have More Care To Stay Than Will To Go.

Sin From Thy Lips? O Trespass Sweetly Urged! Give Me My Sin Again.

Romeo And Juliet Love

I Bear A Charmed Life.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

Knavery's Plain Face Is Never Seen Till Used.

Things May Serve Long, But Not Serve Ever.

My Brain More Busy Than The Labouring Spider Weaves Tedious Snares To Trap Mine Enemies.

Men Are April When They Woo, December When They Wed.

He Says, He Loves My Daughter; I Think So Too; For Never Gaz'd The Moon Upon The Water, As He'll Stand And Read, As 'twere, My Daughter's Eyes: And, To Be Plain, I Think, There Is Not Half A Kiss To Choose, Who Loves Another Best.

Think, When We Talk Of Horses, That You See Them Printing Their Proud Hoofs I' The Receiving Earth.

Then Let Thy Love Be Younger Than Thyself, Or Thy Affection Cannot Hold The Bent.

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.

A Great While Ago The World Begun, With Hey, Ho, The Wind And The Rain; But That's All One, Our Play Is Done, And We'll Strive To Please You Every Day.

I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon Me.

Be Patient, For The World Is Broad And Wide.

Let Every Man Be Master Of His Time.

Now No Way Can I Stray; Save Back To England, All The World's My Way.

The Teeming Autumn Big With Rich Increase, Bearing The Wanton Burden Of The Prime Like Widowed Wombs After Their Lords Decease.

Tut, Man, One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning; One Pain Is Less'ned By Another's Anguish; Turn Giddy, And Be Holp By Backward Turning; One Desperate Grief Cures With Another's Languish.

If The Masses Can Love Without Knowing Why, They Also Hate Without Much Foundation.

Vanity Keeps Persons In Favor With Themselves Who Are Out Of Favor With All Others.

If There Be Devils, Would I Were A Devil, To Live And Burn In Everlasting Fire, So I Might Have Your Company In Hell, But To Torment You With My Bitter Tongue!

We Cannot Conceive Of Matter Being Formed Of Nothing, Since Things Require A Seed To Start From... Therefore There Is Not Anything Which Returns To Nothing, But All Things Return Dissolved Into Their Elements.

O, Here Will I Set Up My Everlasting Rest And Shake The Yoke Of Inauspicious Stars From The World-wearied Flesh

I'll Make My Heaven In A Lady's Lap

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding.

Kiss Me, Kate, We Shall Be Married O'sunday

O Hell! To Choose Love With Another's Eye.

All Is Well Ended If This Suit Be Won. That You Express Content; Which We Will Pay, With Strife To Please You, Day Exceeding Day.

Be Checked For Silence, But Never Taxed For Speech.

He's A Soldier; And For One To Say A Soldier Lies, Is Stabbing.

It Is The Mind That Makes The Body Rich; And As The Sun Breaks Through The Darkest Clouds, So Honor Peereth In The Meanest Habit.

Winter's Not Gone Yet, If The Wild Geese Fly That Way.

Give Me That Man That Is Not Passion's Slave, And I Will Wear Him In My Heart's Core, In My Heart Of Heart, As I Do Thee.

Make Not Your Thoughts Your Prisons.

Scorn, At First, Makes After-love The More.

Poor And Content, Is Rich And Rich Enough; But Riches, Fineless, Is As Poor As Winter, To Him That Ever Fears He Shall Be Poor.

Self Improvement

When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

The Language I Have Learnt These Forty Years, My Native English, Now I Must Forgo; And Now My Tongue's Use Is To Me No More Than An Unstringed Viol Or A Harp, Or Like A Cunning Instrument Cased Up Or, Being Open, Put Into His Hands That Knows No Touch To Tune The Harmony.

I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

Old Fashions Please Me Best; I Am Not So Nice To Change True Rules For Odd Inventions.

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 My Sweet Hope's Aim, My Sole Earth's Heaven, And My Heaven's Claim.

Good Name In Man And Woman, Dear My Lord, Is The Immediate Jewel Of Their Souls: Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash; ’tis Something, Nothing; ’twas Mine, ’tis His, And Has Been Slave To Thousands; But He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Not Enriches Him, And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

It Is Lost At Dice, What Ancient Honor Won.

Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

Methinks A Father Is At The Nuptial Of His Son A Guest That Best Becomes The Table.

Is It Possible He Should Know What He Is, And Be That He Is?

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