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What a terrible era in which idiots govern the blind.
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
Idiots
Govern
Eras
Idiot
Blind
Terrible
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers
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It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
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The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones.
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My soul is in the sky.
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To go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes
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No, I will be the pattern of all patience I will say nothing.
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I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
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O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.
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Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short he tires betimes that spurs too fast.
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I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.
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There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently
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And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
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A good wit will make use of anything.
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It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
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The love of wicked men converts to fear That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
William Shakespeare
Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
William Shakespeare
