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Shakespeare Quotes from The Sonnets
Tacitus. Annals, III., 76. All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.— filed under Absence
How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December's bareness everywhere.— filed under Absence
O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast; Who plead for love and look for recompense More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.— filed under Books
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.— filed under Contemplation
They look into the beauty of thy mind, And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds.— filed under Deeds
Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheath'd their light; And, canopied in darkness, sweetly lay, Till they might open to adorn the day. p. Rape of Lucrece. L. 397. Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array He cheers the morn, and all the earth re lieveth; And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, So is her face illumin'd with her eye. Venus and Adonis. L. 482. If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces The age to come would say, "This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces."— filed under Eyes
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.— filed under Face
Blessed Angells. And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.— filed under Familiarity
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men make faults.— filed under Faults
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force, Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill; Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; And every humor hath his adjunct pleasure, Wherein it finds a joy above the rest.— filed under Glory
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.— filed under Grief
That is my home of love.— filed under Honesty
Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove; O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.— filed under Inconstancy
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.— filed under Joy
Love's not Time's fool.— filed under Love
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. Henry VI. Pt. III. Act 1. Sc. 4. L. 177. Straight in her heart did mercy come.— filed under Mercy
When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.— filed under Months-May
In beauty as the first of May. Much Ado About Nothing. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 194. No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 137. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.— filed under Months-May
The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.— filed under Occupations-Military
The perfumed tincture of the roses.— filed under Occupations-Painting
And for the peace of you I hold such strife As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.— filed under Peace
The middle summer's spring. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 82. Thy eternal summer shall not fade. C.— filed under Sows
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! aa.— filed under Sincerity
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater.— filed under Slander
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?— filed under Time
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow.— filed under Time
Yet, do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young.— filed under Time
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill.— filed under Truth
Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd, Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; But best is best, if never intermix'd.— filed under Truth
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.— filed under Twilight
O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Measure for Measure: Act III. Sc. 1. L. 137. O, what a mansion have those vices got Which for their habitation chose out thee, Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, And all things turn to fair that eyes can see!— filed under Victory
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity; For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.— filed under Welcome
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?— filed under Worth
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime: So thou through windows of thine age shall see. Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.— filed under Zeal