What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure? (William Shakespeare, "")
Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender Princes. (William Shakespeare, "")
I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow, and delight No less in truth than life. (William Shakespeare, "")
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures. (William Shakespeare)
My charity is outrage, life my shame; And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage! (William Shakespeare, "")
By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too. (William Shakespeare)
Even for the service that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. (William Shakespeare, "")
But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it; if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life. (William Shakespeare, "")
I never did Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love. (William Shakespeare, "")
Frame thy mind to mirth and merriment, which bars a thousand arms, and lengthens life. (William Shakespeare)
Now if you have a station in the file, Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say it, And I will put that business in your bosoms Whose execution takes your enemy off, Grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Which in his death were perfect. (William Shakespeare, "")
O God methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete How many hours bring about the day How many days will finish up the year How many years a mortal man may live. (William Shakespeare)
We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. (William Shakespeare)