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Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end.
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
Must
Measured
Hath
Sorrow
Worth
Cause
Causes
Ends
More quotes by William Shakespeare
It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
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Passion makes the will lord of the reason.
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Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.
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I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not.
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Hold, or cut bowstrings.
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Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.
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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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Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
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Trip over love, you can get up. Fall in love and you fall forever. Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
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See the minutes, how they run, How many make the hour full complete How many hours bring about the day How many days will finish up the year How many years a mortal man may live.
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I shall the effect of this good lesson keeps as watchman to my heart.
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A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers.
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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.
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Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death.
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Unsubstantial Death is amorous.
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Never play with the feelings of others, because you may win the game but the risk is that you will surely lose the person for life time
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In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
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Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.
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