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Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.
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
Kind
Would
Sleep
Fighting
Heart
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Ask me no reason why I love you for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.
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O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer!
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Villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that sing my heart Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas.
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That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough no more: 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.
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To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
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In the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor for 'tis the mind that makes the body rich
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I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
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Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
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Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
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I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.
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That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.
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Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by
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The sweets we wish for, turn to loathed sours, Even in the moment that we call them ours.
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My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.
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I doubt not then but innocence shall makeFalse accusation blush, and tyrannyTremble at patience.
William Shakespeare
All the world's a stage.
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Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.
William Shakespeare
Pastime passing excellent, if it he husbanded with modesty.
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. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
William Shakespeare
