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Like madness, is the glory of this life.
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
Madness
Glory
Life
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More quotes by William Shakespeare
We may outrun By violent swiftness And lose by over-running.
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This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
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It is thyself, mine own self's better part Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
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In limited professions there's boundless theft.
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Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
William Shakespeare
But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
William Shakespeare
Who can control his fate?
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Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties
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Thou hast her, France let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
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If your mind dislike anything obey it
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I shall the effect of this good lesson keeps as watchman to my heart.
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But whate'er I am, nor I nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased 'til he be eased With being nothing.
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Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.
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You are my true and honourable wife As dear to me as the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
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Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream
William Shakespeare
I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him.
William Shakespeare
Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests, and like deceitful jades Sink in the trial.
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
William Shakespeare
