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Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
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
Happiness
Family
Given
Night
Better
Unsought
Good
Philanthropy
Love
Sought
Life
Charity
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet fondly loves!
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He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
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Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
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These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately long love doth so Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
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Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel.
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Pray you now, forget and forgive.
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It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.
William Shakespeare
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on I tell you that which you yourselves do know.
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All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of--boils and plagues Plaster you o'er that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile!
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Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
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Time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop.
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Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
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Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.
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O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.
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The best is yet to come.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
William Shakespeare
How poor are they that have have not patients.
William Shakespeare
Love is merely a madness.
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A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.
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Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
William Shakespeare