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There's small choice in rotten apples.
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
Shrews
Choices
Taming
Rotten
Apples
Libertarian
Choice
Liberty
Small
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
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I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew.
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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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There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.
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What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
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So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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I understand a fury in your words But not your words.
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But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
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There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
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If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.
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Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
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Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
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What a piece of work is a man
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You told a lie, an odious damned lie Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
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These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
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Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain: Lest sorrow lend me words and words express, The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
William Shakespeare
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
William Shakespeare
The thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility yet am I inland bred And know some nurture.
William Shakespeare
