Beware the ides of March.
I would rather be a slave to my principles than a king without honor.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Et tu, Brute?
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
I am as constant as the northern star.
For let the gods so speed me as I love the name of honor more than I fear death.
Men at some time are masters of their fates: the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
The noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, for I am armed so strong in honesty that they pass by me like the idle winds.
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities.
To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods.
It is a common proof that lowliness is young ambition’s ladder.
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
I shall have glory by this losing day more than Octavius and Mark Antony by this vile conquest shall attain unto.
If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
I am no orator, as Brutus is, but as you know me all, a plain blunt man.
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg, which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, and kill him in the shell.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, to stir men’s blood.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times.
I love the name of honor more than I fear death.
I did send to you for certain sums of gold, which you denied me.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
I am constant as the northern star.
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
Eternal glory! That is what awaits the brave who fight for what is right.
I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, but for the general.
Believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe.
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
O conspiracy, shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night when evils are most free?
Thou hast described a hot friend cooling.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
Set honor in one eye and death i’ the other, and I will look on both indifferently.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.
For my part, I have walk’d about the streets, submitting me unto the perilous night.
Dry up your tears and stick your rosemary on this fair corse.
O, that we then could come by Caesar’s spirit and not dismember Caesar.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, to cut the head off and then hack the limbs.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.
Havoc! And let slip the dogs of war!
Beware the ides of March.
I would rather be a slave to my principles than a king without honor.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Et tu, Brute?
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
I am as constant as the northern star.
For let the gods so speed me as I love the name of honor more than I fear death.
Men at some time are masters of their fates: the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
The noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, for I am armed so strong in honesty that they pass by me like the idle winds.
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities.
To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods.
It is a common proof that lowliness is young ambition’s ladder.
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
I shall have glory by this losing day more than Octavius and Mark Antony by this vile conquest shall attain unto.
If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
I am no orator, as Brutus is, but as you know me all, a plain blunt man.
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg, which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, and kill him in the shell.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, to stir men’s blood.
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times.
I love the name of honor more than I fear death.
I did send to you for certain sums of gold, which you denied me.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
I am constant as the northern star.
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
Eternal glory! That is what awaits the brave who fight for what is right.
I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, but for the general.
Believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe.
This was the noblest Roman of them all.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
O conspiracy, shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night when evils are most free?
Thou hast described a hot friend cooling.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
Set honor in one eye and death i’ the other, and I will look on both indifferently.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.
For my part, I have walk’d about the streets, submitting me unto the perilous night.
Dry up your tears and stick your rosemary on this fair corse.
O, that we then could come by Caesar’s spirit and not dismember Caesar.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, to cut the head off and then hack the limbs.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.
Havoc! And let slip the dogs of war!
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