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These violent delights have violent ends.
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
Friars
Juliet
Delights
Violent
Delight
Friendship
Ends
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
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Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful Mine ears, that heard her flattery nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.
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Are you up to your destiny?
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As good luck would have it.
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April ... hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
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I prithee gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passions, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace.
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Retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
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Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
William Shakespeare
Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.
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Great griefs medicine the less.
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Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.
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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.
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There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee.
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Desire of having is the sin of covetousness.
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Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
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In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid
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You are a tedious fool.
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Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
William Shakespeare
But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.
William Shakespeare
