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But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
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
Peck
Sleeve
Sleeves
Seeming
Wear
Upon
Heart
Love
More quotes by William Shakespeare
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
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If people knew how much I hated them, they'd love me for holding it in.
William Shakespeare
For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
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Do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation.
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There is an old poor man,. . . . Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger.
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I can no longer live by thinking.
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O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.
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Doubt is a thief that often makes us fear to tread where we might have won.
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Let's take the instant by the forward top For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them.
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Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
William Shakespeare
Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.
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Beware Of entrance to a quarrel.
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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
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Ten masts make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. Thy life's a miracle.
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He doth nothing but talk of his horses.
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There is a river in Macedon, and there is moreover a river in Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.
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Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.
William Shakespeare
Love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feelings as to sight?
William Shakespeare
Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse.
William Shakespeare
