William Shakespeare’s Most Memorable Quotes

William Shakespeare (26 April 1564 (baptised) – 23 April 1616) was an English poet, playwright, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world’s pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England’s national poet, and the “Bard of Avon”. His extant works, including collaborations, consist of approximately 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses, some of uncertain authorship. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

― As You Like It

 

“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.”

― All’s Well That Ends Well

 

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

― A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 

“Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.”

― Twelfth Night

 

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

― Julius Caesar

 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.”

― Hamlet

 

“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.”

― Hamlet

 

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”

― Hamlet

 

“If music be the food of love, play on,

Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

― Twelfth Night

 

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

― The Tempest

 

“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.”

― Romeo and Juliet (Shakespeare Collection)

 

“All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.”

― As You Like It

 

“Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.”

― The Passionate Pilgrim

 

“You speak an infinite deal of nothing.”

― The Merchant of Venice

 

“Cowards die many times before their deaths;

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me most strange that men should fear;

Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come when it will come.”

― Julius Caesar

 

“My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.”

― The Taming of the Shrew

 

“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 wish’d. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;

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;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,

The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns

That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

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?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,

And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry,

And lose the name of action.–Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons

Be all my sins remember’d!”

― Hamlet

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