Life and Existence

Memory, the warder of the brain.

If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly; if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We’d jump the life to come.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters.

There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust.

Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he ow’d, As ’twere a careless trifle.

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, Without my stir.

As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.

Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?

If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak.

And to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Life’s uncertain voyage.

I call the gods to witness.

The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

Vex not his ghost: O! let him pass; he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.

And my poor fool is hang’d! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never! Pray you, undo this button.

Her voice was ever soft, Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O! you are men of stones: Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so That heaven’s vaults should crack. She’s gone forever.

The wheel is come full circle.

The wheel is come full circle.

Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense.