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He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
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
Stage
Heard
Hours
Upon
Like
Strut
Fret
Hour
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood.
William Shakespeare
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
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There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound And through this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume.
William Shakespeare
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
William Shakespeare
There's a time for all things.
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Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
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Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us anything.
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I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
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What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
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Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
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There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.
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All hoods make not monks.
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Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.
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All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
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And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.
William Shakespeare
I shall despair. There is no creature loves me And if I die no soul will pity me: And wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself?
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It is lost at dice, what ancient honor won.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
William Shakespeare