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I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
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
Wade
Returning
Tedious
Halfway
Guilt
Blood
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thy words, I grant are bigger, for I wear not, my dagger in my mouth.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
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Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.
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Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
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Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
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I care not, a man can die but once we owe God and death.
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I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
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It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.
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For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.
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I profess not talking: only this, Let each man do his best.
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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger.
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Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
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Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.
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Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
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Ay beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
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The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
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Against love's fire fear`s frost hath dissolution
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France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot.
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