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But I am constant as the Northern Star, Of whose true fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.

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
Whose
Constancy
Stars
Resting
Quality
Northern
True
Fellow
Fixed
Fellows
Star
Firmament
Constant
Julius

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Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
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In jest, there is truth.
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If all the year were playing holidays To sport would be as tedious as to work.
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Let no such man be trusted.
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Manhood is melted into courtesies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones, too.
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Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.
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Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
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Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear and from the tents The armorers accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation.
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Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
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Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
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If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
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Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!
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Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises and oft it hits where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
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What is more miserable than discontent?
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Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
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