Quotes

Quotes about Day


Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

Geoffrey Chaucer

That well by reason men it call may
The daisie, or els the eye of the day,
The emprise, and floure of floures all.

Geoffrey Chaucer

A day after the faire.

John Heywood

Rome was not built in one day.

John Heywood

Be the day never so long,
Evermore at last they ring to evensong.

John Heywood

Even such is time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust!

Sir Walter Raleigh

Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,
What hell it is in suing long to bide:
To loose good dayes, that might be better spent;
To wast long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.
. . . . . . . . .
To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;
To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;
To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne,
To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.
Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end,
That doth his life in so long tendance spend!

Edmund Spenser

I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, but not my love to see.

Edmund Spenser

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

William Shakespeare

Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have look'd on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
If ever sat at any good man's feast.

William Shakespeare

True is it that we have seen better days.

William Shakespeare

For ever and a day.

William Shakespeare

For the rain it raineth every day.

William Shakespeare

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

William Shakespeare

O, call back yesterday, bid time return!

William Shakespeare

If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work.

William Shakespeare

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,--how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism.

William Shakespeare

Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week.

William Shakespeare

He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity.

William Shakespeare

Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.

William Shakespeare

This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

William Shakespeare

O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day!

William Shakespeare

Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!

William Shakespeare

Halcyon days.

William Shakespeare

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bosom of the sea.

William Shakespeare

Authors | Quotes | Digests | Submit | Interact | Store

Copyright © Classics Network. Contact Us