Emotions and Feelings

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason.

Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war.

O! pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers; Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times.

Speak, hands, for me!

But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.

But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered.

Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.

O conspiracy! Sham’st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, When evils are most free?

Therefore think him as a serpent’s egg Which, hatch’d, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, And kill him in the shell.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.

’Tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock’d himself, and scorn’d his spirit That could be mov’d to smile at anything.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock’d himself, and scorn’d his spirit That could be mov’d to smile at anything.

Let me have men about me that are fat; Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o’ nights. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

Stemming it with hearts of controversy.

Set honor in one eye and death i’ the other, And I will look on both indifferently.

Well, honor is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.

Well, honor is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.

Beware the ides of March.

Some of us will smart for it.

Charm ache with air and agony with words.