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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
Sorrows
Feathers
Sorrow
Chance
Lives
Felt
Redeem
Doe
Stirs
Ever
Feather
More quotes by William Shakespeare
This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
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The force of his own merit makes his way-a gift that heaven gives for him.
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Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
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When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again.
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The due of honor in no point omit.
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Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
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So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes when they are in great danger I recover them.
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We must follow, not force Providence.
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Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, as seal to the indenture of my love.
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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A pal is one that is aware you while you are, understands where you have already been, accepts whatever you are becoming, and continue to, carefully means that you can develop.
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Why, thou deboshed fish thou...Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
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There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
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The poorest service is repaid with thanks.
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It comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him.
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Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
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What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?
William Shakespeare
