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All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
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
Thee
Missing
Dreams
Days
Sonnet
Show
Nights
Night
Bright
Shows
Till
Dream
Absence
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Ah me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is!
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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to you, trippingly on the tongue but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
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And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
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Good things should be praised.
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Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
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I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
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Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.
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O, call back yesterday, bid time return
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It was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common.
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When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men for thus sings he, Cuckoo Cuckoo, cuckoo O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.
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It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection.
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Ay, but to die and go we know not where To lie in cold obstrution and to rot This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.
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Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
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Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
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Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
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For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.
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