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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
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Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.
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If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
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Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.
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Men of few words are the best men. (3.2.41)
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
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Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.
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Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
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All the world's a stage ... and you better have a zoning variance or it's coming down.
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Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
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Advance our standards, set upon our foes Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
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Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wondered at, and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast.
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I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
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To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
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How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
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He's a soldier and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
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Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?
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My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love.
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
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Rich honesty dwells like a miser, Sir, in a poor house as your pearl in your foul oyster.
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And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.
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