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Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep.
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
Loses
Keep
Reason
Fools
Thing
Thee
Would
Thus
Life
None
Fool
Lose
More quotes by William Shakespeare
They are in the very wrath of love, and they will go together. Clubs cannot part them
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Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
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I hourly learn a doctrine of obedience.
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Appetite, a universal wolf.
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A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
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Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
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It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
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Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.
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Give me my sin again.
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Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
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It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding Sweet lovers love the spring.
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A man I am cross'd with adversity.
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Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliances are relieved, Or not at all.
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Let us kill all lawyers
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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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There is a devilish mercy in the judge, if you'll implore it, that will free your life, but fetter you till death.
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