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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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
Doesn
Someone
Love
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
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He is winding the watch of his wit by and by it will strike.
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Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you
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I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
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But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
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Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
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O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first it smells of mortality.
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We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars as if we were villians by compulsion.
William Shakespeare
Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
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If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark
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I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
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I will instruct my sorrows to be proud for grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.
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An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
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Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
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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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My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul.
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Mend when thou canst be better at thy leisure.
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Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
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There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity profound conceit As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
William Shakespeare
My stars shine darkly over me
William Shakespeare
