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The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.
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
Lovers
Poet
Imagination
Theseus
Midsummer
Compact
Lunatic
Lover
More quotes by William Shakespeare
And do as adversaries do in law, strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
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If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
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Pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
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Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate.
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Lawn as white as driven snow Cyprus black as e'er was crow Gloves as sweet as damask roses.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
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O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.
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What else may hap, to time I will commit.
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Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
William Shakespeare
I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.
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...Vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
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He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
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What thing, in honor, had my father lost, That need to be revived and breathed in me?
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Time's glory is to command contending kings, To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light.
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O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
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In delay there lies no plenty.
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Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
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. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
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O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
William Shakespeare
None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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