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Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
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
Grieving
Master
Grief
Masters
Wells
Well
Every
Benedick
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
William Shakespeare
O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
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Within the book and volume of thy brain.
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The sands are number'd that make up my life Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
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Let the end try the man.
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Death is a fearful thing.
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Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense?
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Examine well your blood.
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Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?
William Shakespeare
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
William Shakespeare
The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th' bottom of the worst.
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A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*
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Oh what fools we mortals are.
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Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
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And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
William Shakespeare
Thou hast the most unsavoury similes.
William Shakespeare
The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!
William Shakespeare
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
William Shakespeare
Who can control his fate?
William Shakespeare
You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!
William Shakespeare
