Hamlet: Sir, to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
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Hamlet: The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Hamlet: O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
Hamlet: Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him.
Polonius: 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: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Hamlet: Sir, to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Hamlet: Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
Hamlet: I set it down, that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain!
Hamlet: You cannot call it love! At your age the heyday in the blood is tame.
Hamlet: The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Hamlet: Get thee to a nunnery!
Hamlet: O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
Hamlet: Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him.
Polonius: 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: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Hamlet: Sir, to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Hamlet: Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
Hamlet: You cannot call it love! At your age the heyday in the blood is tame.
Hamlet: I set it down, that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain!
Hamlet: The rest is silence. Horatio: Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Hamlet: 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... Hamlet: ...and by a sleep to say... Hamlet: ...we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to! Hamlet: 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished! To die, to sleep. To sleep - Hamlet: - perchance to dream! Aye, 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. Hamlet: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the 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 the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Hamlet: Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Hamlet: Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
