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Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
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
Shore
Wave
Towards
Minutes
Ends
Make
Like
Hasten
Waves
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Nature does require her times of preservation.
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In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
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O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dashed all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished!
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I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good.
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O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
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Soft pity enters an iron gate.
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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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You know who you are, but know not who you could be.
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A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously the very ice of chastity is in them.
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. . from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.
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Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror
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To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
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For she had eyes and chose me.
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
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