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How much salt water thrown away in waste/ To season love, that of it doth not taste.
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
Water
Away
Doth
Much
Salt
Love
Season
Thrown
Seasons
Waste
Taste
More quotes by William Shakespeare
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.
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This is the very ecstasy of love.
William Shakespeare
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
William Shakespeare
As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
William Shakespeare
My wits begin to turn.
William Shakespeare
Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
William Shakespeare
Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
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Well, God's above all and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
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I'll teach you differences.
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Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care.
William Shakespeare
For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
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She says I am not fair, that I lack manners She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as Phoenix.
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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
William Shakespeare
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
William Shakespeare
Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
William Shakespeare
Lawn as white as driven snow Cyprus black as e'er was crow Gloves as sweet as damask roses.
William Shakespeare
A turn or two I'll walk To still my beating mind.
William Shakespeare
