Quotes to inspire and reflect

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

 

Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die,

 

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,

 

No, ’tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but ’tis enough, ’twill serve.

 

A plague o’ both your houses!

 

Good-night, good-night! parting is such sweet sorrow.

 

I am the very pink of courtesy.

 

O! for a falconer’s voice,

 

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden.

 

O! swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

 

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose

 

He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.

 

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

 

O! then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you …

 

O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright.

 

Younger than she are happy mothers made.

 

The two hours’ traffick of our stage.

 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal

 

When he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

 

I shall fall

 

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!

 

Heaven will one day open

 

Orpheus with his lute made trees,

 

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot

 

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

 

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

 

This day is called the feast of Crispian:

 

He which hath no stomach to this fight,

 

If we are marked to die, we are enow

 

And what have kings that privates have not too,

 

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts.

 

Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,

 

Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own.

 

I think the king is but a man, as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.

 

I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing when blood is their argument?

 

His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields.

 

The game’s afoot:

 

He’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to

 

Now all the youth of England are on fire,

 

Consideration like an angel came,

 

When we have matched our rackets to these balls,

 

O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend

 

Can this cockpit hold

 

Alle Menschen werden Briider

 

The sun does not set in my dominions.

 

Freude, schöner Götterfunken,

 

It doesn’t much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.

 

But there are moments which he calls his own,