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Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love. -
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
Angel
Devil
Evil
Love
Infatuation
Familiar
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
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A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
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A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!
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Art made tongue-tied by authority.
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Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
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There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.
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A glooming peace this morning with it brings The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
William Shakespeare
O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest - A dammed saint, an honourable villain!
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Make the upcoming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim.
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Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello
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The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
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Why, then the world ’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.
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Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.
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Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.
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I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
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Whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
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You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.
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Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come
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A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.
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