Relationships and Family

What is love? ’tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter. What’s to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

Farewell, fair cruelty.

The kiss you take is better than you give.

For to be wise, and love, Exceeds man’s might; that dwells with gods above.

I lov’d Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.

False as dicers’ oaths.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; When little fears grow great, great love grows there.

To the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! My tables—meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I’m sure it may be so in Denmark.

O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

All is not well; I doubt some foul play.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak’d meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Ere I had ever seen that day.

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on.

So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.

It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o’er the green corn-field did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.

I am falser than vows made in wine.

Down on your knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love.

The wounds invisible That love’s keen arrows make.

From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude.

If you remember’st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not lov’d.

When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.