“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
“To die, to sleep -
To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub,
For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...”
“Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.”
“Conscience doth make cowards of us all.”
“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”
“Sweets to the sweet.”
“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. ”
“When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions!”
“This above all: to thine own self be true.”
“Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.”
“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 wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub.”
“I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.”
“Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.”
“God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.”
“To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.”
“This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. 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 beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
“I must be cruel only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.”
“So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.”
“To die, to sleep -
To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub,
For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...”
“Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.”
“Conscience doth make cowards of us all.”
“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”
“Sweets to the sweet.”
“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. ”
“When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions!”
“This above all: to thine own self be true.”
“Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.”
“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 wished. To die to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to Dream; Aye, there's the rub.”
“I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.”
“Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.”
“God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.”
“To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.”
“This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. 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 beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
“I must be cruel only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.”
“So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.”
“The rest, is silence.”
“Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
That would not let me sleep.”
“To be or not to be that is the question.”
“There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.”
“If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.”
“Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.”
“It is not, nor it cannot, come to good,
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.”
“Remember me.”
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