“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

 “I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!”

 “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

 “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

 “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

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

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

 “We know what we are, but not what we may be.”

 “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.”

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

 “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

 “By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.”
―Macbeth

“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

 “My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.”

“My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.”

 “Though she be but little, she is fierce!”
―A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 “These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder
Which, as they kiss, consume”
―Romeo and Juliet

 “O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father refuse thy name:

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

‘Tis but thy name, that is my enemy;–

Thou art thyself thou not a Montague,

What is Montague?  It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man.  O, be some other name!
What’s in a name?
That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,

Retain such dear perfection to which he owes,

Without that title:– Romeo, Doff thy name!
And for that name which is no part of thee,

Take all thyself.”

 “To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
―Macbeth

 “Lord, what fools these mortals be!”
―A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 “Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!”
―Macbeth

 “thus with a kiss I die”
― William Shakespeare