Juliet: For in a minute there are many days.

classic line from Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1597)
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Ford: Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.

line from the play The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II, Scene 2, script by William Shakespeare (1602)
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Iago: Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.

classic line from Othello by William Shakespeare (1603)
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end.

quote by William Shakespeare
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.

quote by William Shakespeare
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King Claudius: Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!

classic line from Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1599)
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Macbeth [aside]: Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

line from Macbeth, Act I, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1606)
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Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Antonio: What's past is prologue.

line from the play The Tempest, Act II, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1611)
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Iago: Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.

line from the play Othello, Act II, Scene 3, script by William Shakespeare (1603)
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Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck (Sonnet 14)

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 14: “Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck…”

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good, or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality,
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell;
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And constant stars in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thy self, to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 14: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy—
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
'Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thy self to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Macbeth: Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

classic line from Macbeth, Act V, Scene V by William Shakespeare (1606)
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Sonnet 126: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass his fickle hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May Time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep her treasure.
Her audit, though delayed, answered must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 19: Devouring Time blunt thou the lion's paws

Devouring Time blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood,
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix, in her blood,
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,
And do whate'er thou wilt swift-footed Time
To the wide world and all her fading sweets.
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen,
Him in thy course untainted do allow,
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. 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.
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.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

poem by William Shakespeare from Sonnets (1609)
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Sonnet 12: When I do count the clock that tells the time

When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

poem by William Shakespeare
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Lafeu: They say miracles are past.

line from the play All's Well That Ends Well, Act II, Scene 3, script by William Shakespeare (1605)
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Let the coming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim.

quote by William Shakespeare
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