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This feather stirs she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
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
Sorrow
Chance
Lives
Felt
Redeem
Doe
Stirs
Ever
Feather
Sorrows
Feathers
More quotes by William Shakespeare
It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.
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O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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Advance our standards, set upon our foes Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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A good leg will fall a straight back will stoop a black beard will turn white a curl'd pate will grow bald a fair face will wither a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, — for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.
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A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
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Put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.
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Too nice, and yet too true!
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He is not great who is not greatly good.
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Extreme fear can neither fight nor fly.
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Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand.
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I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
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A smile cures the wounding of a frown.
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This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.
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Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,- One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.
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No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
William Shakespeare
Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
William Shakespeare
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
William Shakespeare
I cannot, nor I will not hold me still My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
William Shakespeare
