Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.
The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, the death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast.
As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark... so may a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her and be her sense but as a monument, thus in a chapel lying.
Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching!
The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he really is very good, in spite of all the people who say he is very good.
Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, and look on death itself.