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The sands are number'd that make up my life Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
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
Must
Make
Life
Sands
Sand
Number
Stay
Numbers
Ends
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Love hath made thee a tame snake
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Covering discretion with a coat of folly.
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Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.
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What my tongue dares not that my heart shall say
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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.
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Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
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Words pay no debts, give her deeds.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court... and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
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That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
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And all this day an unaccustomed spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
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To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain If lost, why then a grievous labour won However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
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Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
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Love is merely a madness and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too.
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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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But love is blind and lovers cannot see
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The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.
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You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.
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Love will not be spurred to what it loathes
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