Quotes

Quotes about Art


I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please.

William Shakespeare

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. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard;
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

William Shakespeare

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

William Shakespeare

I 'll warrant him heart-whole.

William Shakespeare

'T were all one
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it.

William Shakespeare

Sir To. Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

William Shakespeare

Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.

William Shakespeare

A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.

William Shakespeare

He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.

William Shakespeare

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

William Shakespeare

Another lean unwashed artificer.

William Shakespeare

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

William Shakespeare

And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

William Shakespeare

Gave
His body to that pleasant country's earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.

William Shakespeare

Thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint.

William Shakespeare

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.

William Shakespeare

The blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!

William Shakespeare

Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along.

William Shakespeare

But in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I 'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

William Shakespeare

This earth that bears thee dead
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.

William Shakespeare

The better part of valour is discretion.

William Shakespeare

Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd tolling a departing friend.

William Shakespeare

An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

William Shakespeare

Turn him to any cause of policy,
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter: that when he speaks,
The air, a chartered libertine, is still.

William Shakespeare

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start.

William Shakespeare

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