The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEAREMy heart is ever at your service.
More William Shakespeare Quotes
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Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is!
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Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird’s life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.
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Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.
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The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
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I do desire we may be better strangers.
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We know what we are, but not what we may be.
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All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
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You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
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I do desire we may be better strangers.
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Having nothing, nothing can he lose.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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The eyes are the window to your soul.
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Conscience doth make cowards of us all.
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The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
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Though she be but little, she is fierce!
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If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.
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Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
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Grief makes one hour ten.
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Lord, what fools these mortals be!
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Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.
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This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
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Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.
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Never play with the feelings of others, because you may win the game but the risk is that you will surely lose the person for life time.
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If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
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These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE