William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,<br>Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Brevity is the soul of wit.

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 devil hath power <br>To assume a pleasing shape.

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

O, woe is me,<br>To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:<br>Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

I must be cruel, only to be kind:<br>Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

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

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,<br>It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

The rest is silence.

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:<br>And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Beware the ides of March.

But, for my own part, it was Greek to me.

Et tu, Brute!

How many ages hence <br>Shall this our lofty scene be acted over <br>In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

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

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

For Brutus is an honourable man; <br>So are they all, all honourable men.

There is a tide in the affairs of men <br>Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; <br>Omitted, all the voyage of their life <br>Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

If all the year were playing holidays, <br>To sport would be as tedious as to work.

He hath eaten me out of house and home.

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