37.

This is my collection of Shakespeare quotes. I prefer to find obscure quotes from within books/plays/movies that speak to me personally, but most of these are pretty famous. Regardless, I think they're worthy of posting.

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves."
           -Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II

"…Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! It is the 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."
          -Sonnet 116

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs,
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet."
           -Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene I

"So they lov'd as love is twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distinct, divisions none…"
          -The Phoenix and the Turtle

"Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt thy love."
          -Hamlet, Act II, Scene II

"To be or not to be, that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weaery life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action."
          -Hamlet, Act III, Scene I

"Present fears are less than horrible imaginings."
          -MacBeth, Act I, Scene III

"This above all to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day thou canst not then be false to any man."

          -Hamlet, Act I, Scene III