All the world’s a stage, and we are merely players.
To thine own self be true.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
This above all: to thine own self be true.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Now is the winter of our discontent.
All that glitters is not gold.
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
Out, out brief candle!
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
If music be the food of love, play on.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose.
Though she be but little, she is fierce.
The better part of Valour, is Discretion.
The wheel is come full circle.
Give me my robe, put on my crown.
Theres daggers in mens smiles.
The past is prologue.
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
When shall we three meet again?
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
If you prick us, do we not bleed?
Our doubts are traitors.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
I am not what I am.
As he was valiant, I honor him.
When the sea gave up her dead.
A fool thinks himself to be wise.
To be or not to be: that is the question.
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart.
All that is gold does not glitter.
A little touch of Harry in the night.
Let not my love be called idolatry.
The miserable have no other medicine but only hope.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow.
All the world’s a stage, and we are merely players.
To thine own self be true.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
This above all: to thine own self be true.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Now is the winter of our discontent.
All that glitters is not gold.
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
Out, out brief candle!
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
If music be the food of love, play on.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose.
Though she be but little, she is fierce.
The better part of Valour, is Discretion.
The wheel is come full circle.
Give me my robe, put on my crown.
Theres daggers in mens smiles.
The past is prologue.
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
When shall we three meet again?
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
If you prick us, do we not bleed?
Our doubts are traitors.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman.
I am not what I am.
As he was valiant, I honor him.
When the sea gave up her dead.
A fool thinks himself to be wise.
To be or not to be: that is the question.
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on.
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart.
All that is gold does not glitter.
A little touch of Harry in the night.
Let not my love be called idolatry.
The miserable have no other medicine but only hope.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow.
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