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All that glisters is not gold Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
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
Many
Appearance
Merchants
Men
Gold
Tombs
Life
Outside
Venice
Told
Tanks
Wisdom
Behold
Heard
Worms
Often
Sold
Enfold
Inspirational
Hath
Gilded
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
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You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave.
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You have her father's love, Demetrius Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him!
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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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Weep I cannot But my heart bleeds.
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Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
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The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
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Know more than other. Work more than other. Expect less than other
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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
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It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
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I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
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I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster!
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Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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Faint heart never won fair maid.
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...lest too light winning make the prize light.
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O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
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These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men.
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The head is not more native to the heart.
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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
William Shakespeare