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There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
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
Ophelia
Rashness
Horatio
Divinity
Rough
Shapes
Ends
Life
Polonius
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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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Sweet are the uses of adversity
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The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
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My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
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I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
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For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.
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When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air the earth sings when he touches it the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
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The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water.
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Death-counterfeiting sleep.
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If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
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To be furious, is to be frighted out of fear.
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Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin.
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A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.
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It is my soul that calls upon my name How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo
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There should be hours for necessities, not for delights times to repair our nature with comforting repose, and not for us to waste these times.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.
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No .... holy father, throw away that thought. Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom.
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What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
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Hate pollutes the mind.
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