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O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of 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
Speak
Messenger
Night
Messengers
Art
Bright
Glorious
Thou
Angel
Head
Heaven
Winged
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
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Lord Bacon told Sir Edward Coke when he was boasting, The less you speak of your greatness, the more shall I think of it.
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Nothing can come of nothing.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight which therein works a miracle in Nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crisped snaky golden locks which make such wanton gambols with the wind upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
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Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
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Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
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You know That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, And after scandal them.
William Shakespeare
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?
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I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant.
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But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
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Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.
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There's not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves.
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Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.
William Shakespeare
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.
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A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.
William Shakespeare
A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting The perfume and suppliance of a minute No more.
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.
William Shakespeare