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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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
Life
Misty
Like
Candles
Melancholy
Candle
Burned
Stands
Tinged
Hope
Tiptoe
Night
Tiptoes
More quotes by William Shakespeare
So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by.
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A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.
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For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
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Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.
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Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear, And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
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Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
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Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?
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Get thee to a nunnery.
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They are in the very wrath of love, and they will go together. Clubs cannot part them
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Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel? Polonius: By the mass, and ‘tis like a camel, indeed. Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius: It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet: Or like a whale? Polonius: Very like a whale.
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So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.
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I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.
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Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.
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ROMEO There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave for there must I use thee.
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Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.
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Her father lov'd me oft invited me Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd.
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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Ay, but to die and go we know not where To lie in cold obstrution and to rot This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.
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I always thought it was both impious and unnatural that such immanity and bloody strife should reign among professors of one faith.
William Shakespeare
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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