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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Death
Full
Shadow
Hiking
Catharsis
Nothing
Heard
Walking
Tale
Sonnet
Play
Hours
Journey
Pace
Nihilism
Life
Poor
Tomorrow
Wander
Sauntering
Upon
Walks
Theme
Trekking
Frets
Sound
Player
Idiot
Strolling
Strutting
Success
Told
Tales
Creeps
Signifying
Inspirational
Stage
Hour
Fury
Fretting
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Remembrance of things past.
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I will go wash And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no.
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For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
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Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
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Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.
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Time is a very bankrupt and owes more than he's worth to season. Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say, That Time comes stealing on by night and day?
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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One sin, I know, another doth provoke. Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke.
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The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
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The head is not more native to the heart.
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And too soon Marred are those so early Made.
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Affliction is enamoured of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.
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Let's meet as little as we can
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Nor shall this peace sleep with her but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
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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 these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
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Mine honour is my life both grow in one Take honour from me, and my life is done.
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Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
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Give thy thoughts no tongue, nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar.
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One sees more devils than vast hell can hold
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.
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