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My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
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
Cracks
Flaws
Thee
Sound
Love
Sans
Flaw
Crack
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest.
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I had rather live with cheese and garlic in a windmill.
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Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
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I scorn you, scurvy companion.
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Angels and ministers of grace defend us.
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Charity itself fulfills the law. And who can sever love from charity?
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Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
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Some falls the means are happier to rise.
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The hideous god of war.
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What is past is prologue.
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If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
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Would I were in an alehouse in London.
William Shakespeare
What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
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Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.
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But yet, I say, if imputation and strong circumstances, which lead directly to the door of truth, will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
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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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That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in a storm.
William Shakespeare
Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.
William Shakespeare
I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)
William Shakespeare
I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
William Shakespeare
