Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.
What need we any spur but our own cause to prick us to redress?
Thou art a fellow of good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
The skies are painted with unnumber’d sparks, They are all fire and every one doth shine, But there ‘s but one in all doth hold his place.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.[Also known as:]It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.
Rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, which gives men stomach to digest his words with better appetite.
Now sit we close about this taper here, and call in question our necessities.
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of those worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
For I can raise no money by vile means.
