Best 58 quotes in «romeo and juliet quotes» category

I've played Romeo for Juliet (But in depth) It's vignettes of silhouettes (And then read) And watched Russian roulette, yeah red Soviet Yet doing it simultaneously While dropping down shed oubliettes Turned around and took truth to the head that Love is the ugliest thing too beautiful for death

I was Juliet and Quinn was Romeo, and the lines weren't dead black-and-white words on a page but somehow alive, as natural and real as the argument we'd had about the spider and the fly. The rows of empty seats were gone, and we were in a candlelit ballrooom, wrapped in our own cocoon of words. But the playful banter of our words couldn't mask what we both knew--that after this, nothing would be the same . And then we got to the kissing part, which we'd only read through together and had never really rehearsed. But it didn't matter, because I was still Juliet and Quinn was still Romeo, his gray-green eyes fixed on mine. And when he bent to kiss me, it was Romeo's lips on Juliet's. Even so, Juliet was just as stunned as I would've been. When I said the last line, I was speaking for both of us. You kiss by the book.

I want to be Tragedy, I want to be Juliet, I want to be Romeo. Thus with a kiss I die.

It’s awful, telling it like this, isn’t it? As though we didn’t know the ending. As though it could have another ending. It’s like watching Romeo drink poison. Every time you see it you get fooled into thinking his girlfriend might wake up and stop him. Every single time you see it you want to shout, 'You stupid ass, just wait a minute,' and she’ll open her eyes! 'Oi, you, you twat, open your eyes, wake up! Don’t die this time!' But they always do.

Mother, I will look to like. If looking liking moves.

I wish I could hold the play (Romeo and Juliet) in my hands right now. I want to read it. I want to know that someone else has felt what I feel, even if that person never existed outside one man’s imagination.

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

One pain is lessened by another’s anguish. ... Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.

Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montagues.

Perhaps one day I’d be made a saint—the patron saint of fools and lovers, if those terms were not exactly the same.

Puis-je aller plus loin quand mon coeur est ici?

Romeo has poisoned himself. Idiot.

Seated across is a silent affair looking into my eyes; blurring the loud scenery. An incapable dream, an unimagined union-I whisper. Then you close your eyes and your soul yells my name. I cradle your peace back-with a sigh and kiss your thought away. Because we are an incomplete pair of Romeo and Juliet left alive by the Montagues and the Capulets; killed by the distance of the sun and the moon.

Shakespeare had it right all along: Love will kill you in the end.

That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet

I will find you another long-forgotten Queen Mab poem in no time. Depend on it. I refuse to let Cody or anyone else know more about English Literature than me. So calm yourself, Elfish, and let an expert take over.

[...] my heart is wondrous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

Oh love how can we not be together?' Romeo cried. "Without the sight of you every day, the smell, the taste of you, I would wither away. My blood would turn to powder in my veins. And you? Have you not found in me a mirror for your soul? When you look at me, when we speak, touch, do you not see who you really are? I dare you to deny that in my presence you love yourself better. I know this is true, for I love myself better in yours.

Romeo: If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Juliet: Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Romeo: Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo: O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Juliet: Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo: Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. Juliet: Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo: Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. Juliet: You kiss by the book.

Se Giulietta e Romeo non si fossero uccisi nessuno si ricorderebbe di loro» mi dice prima di andarsene, ma si ferma sulla porta. «Spero che tu e Cameron siate più fortunati insieme.

She shocked me. Truly rocked the ground beneath my feet. Made the air shimmer with her power and grace. The woman had slipped free the prison of rules that governed us all and met me halfway to paradise.

Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.

That's because it was Gage Stevenson, the epitome of my childhood and love life. That boy is irreplaceable.

There has to be some way this won’t end in tragedy. Why can’t Romeo and Juliet live happily ever after? It’s as if the universe won’t abide such a strong connection in such a disconnected world, as if our connection defies the natural order.

The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness. And in the taste destroys the appetite. Therefore, love moderately.

The tragic hero usurps the function of the gods and attempts to remake the world.

We are all Romeos looking for our Juliet, but never finding her.

what ho, apothecary!

There are a million things in this world that can end you, that can in one second obliterate the life you work so hard to keep alive. Our lives are structured around not dying. Eating, sleeping, looking both ways before you cross the street. It's all, all of it, to keep us safe from the thing that we know is going to get us anyway. It doesn't even make sense, if you think about it. It's the world's biggest joke. Our entire lives are set up around not dying, knowing all the while that it's the one thing we can't avoid.

These sudden joys have sudden endings. They burn up in victory like fire and gunpowder.

The two of them became an instant couple. Very Romeo and Juliet without the wonky families and tragic double-suicide thing.

The world is not thy friend nor the world’s law.

Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not.

Avalon is full of desperate people.’ She bites at her lower lip this time, fumbling her hands, knitting her fingers into the bundle of plastic coin bags in her grasp. ‘Are you implying that I’m desperate?’ I say, one eyebrow tilting. ‘You don’t need to be desperate… you can have anyone... I…’ she trails off. Looking up and trying to search the line of shops for the bank. I repulse her, I make her want to run. Why is this so hard? I need to get inside of her, I need to know what she is thinking, what she is wanting. It surely isn’t me she wants. Not to the extent that I… want her. ‘You?’ I entice her to finish her sentence but she doesn’t, she stares off into the bustling crowds, memory flashing her eyes with a darkness. ‘Madi wouldn’t fumble like this.’ Oh, she would fumble, but not in the way you are, Elli. ‘You’re not her, Elli.’ I entice her again, trying to force the dark memory, the sadness from her. ‘No, if I was, you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else.’ A breath hitches in her throat, she puts a hand over her mouth and says something else, her cheeks dance a shade of red that brightens and brightens until she apologises and quickens her pace. I chuckle, pulling at her arm and encircling one around her waist, pulling her back to me. Beneath my touch, her body trembles. When I raise my hand, my palm touching her cheek, I am sure she isn’t breathing. ‘I don’t want anyone, Elli.’ My eyes burn, consuming her with my gaze. She is like a frightful deer, struggling beneath me with a gaze that cannot quite meet mine. When she does, it is only for a brief second before falling down and all I see is the gentle flutter of her raven flashes. ‘I told you. I want someone I cannot have.’ ‘That is a really harsh way of telling someone you’re not interested.

When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires, And these, who, often drowned, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

When I was twelve, my sixth-grade English class went on a field trip to see Franco Zeffirelli’s film adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. From that moment forward I dreamed that someday I’d meet my own Juliet. I’d marry her and I would love her with the same passion and intensity as Romeo. The fact that their marriage lasted fewer than three days before they both were dead didn’t seem to affect my fantasy. Even if they had lived, I don’t think their relationship could have survived. Let’s face it, being that emotionally aflame, sexually charged, and transcendentally eloquent every single second can really start to grate on a person’s nerves. However, if I could find someone to love just a fraction of the way that Montague loved his Capulet, then marrying her would be worth it.

Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that Thou hast done to me. Therefore turn and draw.

Bear hence this body and attend our will. Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Capulet! Montague! See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love!

Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night; Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night...

Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Everyone knows that how to love, But every relationship do not come out as romeo and Juliet.

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!

Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!

Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Had Romeo and Juliet higher IQ too or just love affair? While today's most lovers have the higher IQ, but even that, they fail.

Had Romeo and Juliet higher IQ too or just a love affair? While today’s most lovers have the higher IQ, but even that, they fail.

Hark,” he said, his tone very dry. “What stone through yonder window breaks?” Kami yelled up at him, “It is the east, and Juliet is a jerk!

He jests at scars that never felt a wound. But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off! It is my lady. Oh, it is my love. Oh, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses. I will answer it.— I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!

He is Romeo, and he is heartbroken. Every word is wistful. When he says, 'O, teach me how I should forget to think!' I, for the first time, see what the big deal is about Shakespeare.