Quotes to inspire and reflect

Death lies on her like an untimely frost.

 

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

 

Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day

 

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,

 

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

 

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!

 

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

 

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

 

He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.

 

O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright.

 

The two hours’ traffick of our stage.

 

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

 

When he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal

 

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!

 

I shall fall

 

Heaven will one day open

 

Orpheus with his lute made trees,

 

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot

 

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

 

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts.

 

And what have kings that privates have not too,

 

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 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?

 

The game’s afoot:

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Now all the youth of England are on fire,

 

When we have matched our rackets to these balls,

 

Consideration like an angel came,

 

Can this cockpit hold

 

O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend

 

The sun does not set in my dominions.

 

Alle Menschen werden Briider

 

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,

 

Moscow: those syllables can start