William Shakespeare Thinking Quotations

I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.

He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.

It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.

Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?

Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

I and my bosom must debate awhile, and then I would no other company.

Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

I am wrapped in dismal thinking.

Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.

Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.

They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.

Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.

What wouldst thou do, old man? Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows?

A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?

Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river: there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws; and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, 'Ah, ha! are caught!'

I can no longer live by thinking.

I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.

So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many thing by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!

I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.

Speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.

O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.

Let me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares, And think perchance they'll sell; if not, The lustre of the better yet to show Shall show the better.

Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.

How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.

From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Flout 'em, and scout 'em; and scout 'em, and flout 'em; / Thought is free.

And, if you love me, as I think you do, let's kiss and part, for we have much to do

Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.

I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire.

Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.

For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.

It is neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.

I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.

You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime.

It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?

I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere;

To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordinance in the field, And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. Grumio: For he fears none.

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.

To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self: a deadly banishment! What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? Unless it be to think that she is by, And feed upon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon; She is my essence, and I leave to be, If I be not by her fair influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.

When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.

She dreams of him that has forgot her love; You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary; And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: DId you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. Ophelia: What is, my lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.

O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.

The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e' er the sun shone bright on.

I'll privily away; I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes; Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.

There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.

I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.

A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.

Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?

As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.

He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.

Lord Bacon told Sir Edward Coke when he was boasting, The less you speak of your greatness, the more shall I think of it.

He is a heavy eater of beef. Me thinks it doth harm to his wit.

He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.

I love him for his sake; And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtue's steely bones Looks bleak i' th' cold wind; withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

Say as you think and speak it from your souls.

Words spoken can not be recalled so think twice before you speak.

I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

And yet by heaven I think my love as rare / as any that she belie with false compare Sonnett CXXX, ll, 13-14

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear.

There are three people in yourself:Who people think you are, Who you think you are, and who you really are.