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To persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief.
Sep 29, 2025
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
More matter with less art.
Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
A man can smile and smile and be a villain.
One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, bear t that th' opposed may beware of thee.
This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.
O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
It is not, nor it cannot, come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
The native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; and enterprises of great pitch and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
To be, or not to be; that is the bare bodkin That makes calamity of so long life.
There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.
Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
The apparel oft proclaims the man.
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
To die: - to sleep: No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune, Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep No more; and by a sleep, to say we end The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep, To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub.
To take arms against a sea of troubles.
This above all; to thine own self be true.
To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.