"O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live."

"Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither."

"Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York."

"Off with his head!"

"A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!"

"What light through yonder window breaks?"

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet."

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?"

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind."

"If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces."

"It is a wise father that knows his own child."

"All that glisters is not gold."

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal'd by the same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?"

"The better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life."

"A man can die but once."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."

"As merry as the day is long."

"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never."

"Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps."

"Beware the ides of March."

"Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings."

"Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once."

"Cry 'Havoc!,' and let slip the dogs of war."

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones."

"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."

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

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine ownself be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."

"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice."

"The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right!"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

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

"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!"

"To be or not to be, that is the question."

"If music be the food of love, play on."

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em."

"Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving."

"Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well."

"We have seen better days."

"Nothing can come of nothing."

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child!"

"I am a man, More sinn'd against than sinning."

"The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water."

"Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day."

"Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?"

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, 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."

"All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand."

"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"