| Quotes |
Topic |
| Shakespeare | Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall, O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1. |
| Shakespeare | I am sure care 's an enemy to life. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | At my fingers' ends. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | Wherefore are these things hid? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | One draught above heat makes him a fool, the second mads him, and a third drowns him. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5. |
| Shakespeare | We will draw the curtain and show you the picture. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5. |
| Shakespeare | 'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on, Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5. |
| Shakespeare | Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5. |
| Shakespeare | Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | -Sir To. |
| Shakespeare | My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| Shakespeare | These most brisk and giddy-paced times. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4. |
| Previous - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48 - 49 - 50 - 51 - 52 - 53 - 54 - 55 - 56 - 57 - 58 - 59 - 60 - 61 - 62 - 63 - 64 - 65 - 66 - 67 - 68 - 69 - 70 - 71 - 72 - 73 - 74 - 75 - 76 - 77 - Page 78 - 79 - 80 - 81 - 82 - 83 - 84 - 85 - 86 - 87 - 88 - 89 - 90 - 91 - 92 - 93 - 94 - 95 - 96 - 97 - 98 - 99 - 100 - 101 - 102 - 103 - 104 - 105 - 106 - Next |