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And too soon Marred are those so early Made.

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
Marred
Soon
Early
Made

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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
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Is it possible that love should of a sudden take such a hold?
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
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I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
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Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none. This above all: to thine own self be true. No legacy is so rich as honesty. Brevity is the soul of wit
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I have been long a sleeper but I trust My absence doth neglect no great design Which by my presence might have been concluded.
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You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
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How soar sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept!
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Dirty days hath September April June and November From January up to May The rain it raineth every day All the rest have thirty-one Without a blessed gleam of sun And if any of them had two-and-thirty They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty. April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
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O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
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Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awaked in such a kind Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.
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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
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For the poor wren (The most diminutive of birds) will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
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For I am fresh of spirit, and resolved To meet all perils very constantly.
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Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
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This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.
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