“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Playwright and poet · 1564 – 1616

English playwright and poet, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language; author of Hamlet and Macbeth.

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The course of true love never did run smooth.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

All that glitters is not gold.

To be, or not to be: that is the question.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

This above all: to thine own self be true.