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Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
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
Thought
Much
Would
Sleepwalking
Men
Macbeth
Lady
Murder
Blood
Hands
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
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Men from children nothing differ.
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Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced with discretion.
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And in the morn and liquid dew of youth, Contagious blastments are are most imminent.
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All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
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The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
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If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
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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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Words spoken can not be recalled so think twice before you speak.
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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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Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
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Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.
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Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
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For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas
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The eagle suffers little birds to sing.
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She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known
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thy wit is a very bitter sweeting it is a most sharp sauce.
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