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Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
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
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Remedies
Remedy
Atheism
Dying
Heaven
Lying
Death
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
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Oh, that way madness lies let me shun that.
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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
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There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
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Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.
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Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest terms?
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How well he's read, to reason against reading!
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I have a bone to pick with Fate
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The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
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Nice customs curtsy to great kings.
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Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!
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And nature must obey necessity.
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Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.
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But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly.
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
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Live how we can, yet die we must.
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The object of Art is to give life a shape.
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase you vile standing-tuck!
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A hit, a very palpable hit.
William Shakespeare
