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Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
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
Thou
Words
Weigh
Breath
Breaths
More quotes by William Shakespeare
This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, . . . This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land.
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Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.
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Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared.
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Love's best habit is a soothing tongue
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Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us.
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All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.
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Be bloody, bold, and resolute laugh to scorn the power of man.
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The chameleon Love can feed on the air
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Gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedom.
William Shakespeare
Whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
William Shakespeare
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.
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You are my true and honourable wife As dear to me as the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
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O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
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Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
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Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.
William Shakespeare
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
William Shakespeare
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season.
William Shakespeare
