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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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
Construction
Face
Faces
Science
Art
Find
Mind
More quotes by William Shakespeare
And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
William Shakespeare
I have sounded the very base-string of humility.
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A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man.
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Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away.
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Ask me no reason why I love you for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.
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My age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.
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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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O, had I but followed the arts!
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There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
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The readiness is all.
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To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!
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Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
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Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.
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woah is me to have seen what i seen see what i see
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When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
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Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.
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The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.
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Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.
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I cannot do it without comp[u]ters.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
William Shakespeare