William Shakespeare


English Playwright, Poet, Most widely known Writer in English Literature

Author Quotes

Steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks.

Still, methinks, there is an air comes from her! What fine chisel could ever yet cut breath?

Such a noise arose as the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, as loud and to as many tunes,--hats, cloaks, doublets, I think, flew up; and had their faces been loose, this day they had been lost.

Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. The Merchant of Venice (Shylock at I, iii)

Suspicion, Discontent, and Strife, Come in for Dowrie with a Wife.

Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth.

Stealing her soul with many vows of faith; and ne'er a true one.

Still, you keep o' the windy side of the law. Fabian, scene iv

Such a wretch, winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

Suffers from too little hair we needed and I am glad the little hair MUCH we have.

Swear his thought over by each particular star in heaven and by all their influences, you may as well forbid the sea for to obey the moon as or by oath remove or counsel shake the fabric of his folly, whose foundation is piled upon his faith and will continue the standing of his body.

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind.

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents The armorers accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation.

Still, you keep o’ the windy side of the law.

Such an act, that blurs the grace and blush of modesty; calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose from the fair forehead of an innocent love, and sets a blister there.

Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. Hamlet, Act iii, Scene 2

Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, a good mouth-filling oath.

Sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. Sonnet XCIV

She was false as water.

Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight From these that my poor company detest; And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.

Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.

Since Cleopatra died, I have liv’d in such dishonour, that the gods detest my baseness.

Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote; spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, and as a bed I'll take them, and there lie.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it.

Sirrah, your Father's dead: And what will you do now? How will you live? SON: As birds do, mother.L. MACDUFF: What with worms and flies? SON: With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

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English Playwright, Poet, Most widely known Writer in English Literature