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The wheel is come full circle.
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
Wheel
Circle
Wheels
Circles
Full
Come
Love
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The cheek Is apter than the tongue to tell an errand.
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There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
William Shakespeare
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, at turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to centre.
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Wish chastely, and love dearly.
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When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
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Barnes are blessings.
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All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.
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The Hebrew will turn Christian he grows kind.
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What a fool honesty is.
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
William Shakespeare
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
William Shakespeare
Take it in what sense thou wilt.
William Shakespeare
My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
William Shakespeare
Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward.
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'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.
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Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe. There's nothing situate under heaven's eye But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky.
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I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
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Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.
William Shakespeare
What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?
William Shakespeare
