...But Is It Shakespeare? II

Random Literature or author Quiz

Can you name the source of each famous quote below—whether or not it is from Shakespeare?

Updated Aug 15, 2012

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Famous QuoteShakespeare or Not (S or N)Source
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in it!
Even a fool may be wise after the event.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.
I am constant as the Northern Star, of whose true fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!
If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
For mine own part, it was Greek to me.
With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censored, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, and I'll not look for wine.
O my Luve's like a red, red rose, that's newly sprung in June. O, my Luve's like the melodie, that's sweetly play'd in tune.
Famous QuoteShakespeare or Not (S or N)Source
The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
Physician, heal thyself.
By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old Time is still a-flying.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
The gods help them that help themselves.
When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
Cleanliness is next to Godliness.
The fool doth think he is wise but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time.
The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath.
Age steals away all things, even the mind.
I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
She walks in beauty, like the night; of cloudless climes and starry skies.

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