O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
How use doth breed a habit in a man.
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
It is the mind that makes the body rich and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit.
You know me by my habit.
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit,
More moving, delicate, and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul
Than when she liv'd indeed.
When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false speaking tongue On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. But wherefore says she not she is unjust And wherefore say not I that I am old O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not to have years told Therefore I lie with her and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
More William Shakespeare Quotations (Based on Topics)
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William Shakespeare - Oscar Wilde - George Bernard Shaw - Philippe Quinault - John Fletcher - Henry Porter - George S. Kaufman - George Colman - Anton Chekhov - Alexandre Dumas