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When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
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
Cry
Birth
Fool
Stage
Curmudgeon
Born
Lear
Come
Fools
Great
Cried
Life
Memorable
More quotes by William Shakespeare
That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)
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As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
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Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel? Polonius: By the mass, and ‘tis like a camel, indeed. Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius: It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet: Or like a whale? Polonius: Very like a whale.
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They say best men are molded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad
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Proper deformity shows not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
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Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
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There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
William Shakespeare
The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
William Shakespeare
Thou hast the most unsavoury similes.
William Shakespeare
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
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The old folk, time's doting chronicles.
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Have more than you show, Speak less than you know.
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To some kind of men their graces serve them but as enemies.
William Shakespeare
The man that hath no music in himself
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For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry And so I hear he doth account me too.
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How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
William Shakespeare
Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.
William Shakespeare
What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again.
William Shakespeare
O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
William Shakespeare