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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
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
Lies
Joints
Blood
Settled
Lying
Separated
Upon
Sweetest
Death
Lips
Long
Field
Untimely
Life
Flower
Stiff
Like
Fields
Frost
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Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day.
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I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
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The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
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But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise
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Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th's first.
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Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile If not, why then this parting was well made.
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Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.
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Hope is a lover's staff walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.
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Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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The due of honor in no point omit.
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In maiden meditation, fancy free.
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All the world's a stage ... and you better have a zoning variance or it's coming down.
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Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor for 'tis the mind that makes the body rich
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Because I cannot flatter and look fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy.
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
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Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor.
William Shakespeare
Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
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Time travels at different speeds for different people. I can tell you who time strolls for, who it trots for, who it gallops for, and who it stops cold for.
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A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*
William Shakespeare