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He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
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
Wheat
Cake
Patience
Must
Tarry
Grinding
Cookery
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind.
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It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection.
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We see which way the stream of time doth run.
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The mind of guilt is full of scorpions.
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Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
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I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.
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Determine on some course more than a wild exposure to each chance.
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Who can control his fate?
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Wish chastely, and love dearly.
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O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
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The world must be peopled!
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'Tis thought the king is dead we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd.
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How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!
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The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.
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If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and this is mine You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine You give away myself, which is known mine For I by vow am so embodied yours That she which marries you must marry me-- Either both or none.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.
William Shakespeare
Your praises will become your wages.
William Shakespeare
The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause.
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O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
William Shakespeare