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Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
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
Fame
Though
Lives
Death
Makes
Life
Conqueror
Conquest
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
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Those, that with haste will make a mighty fire, Begin it with weak straws.
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Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.
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Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly.
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I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
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Friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
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He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
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I must be cruel only to be kind Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
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We cannot conceive of matter being formed of nothing, since things require a seed to start from... Therefore there is not anything which returns to nothing, but all things return dissolved into their elements.
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Let the galled jade wince our withers are unwrung.
William Shakespeare
What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights, Eightscore-eight hours, and lovers' absent hours More tedious than the dial eightscore times! O weary reckoning!
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Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.
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Know more than other. Work more than other. Expect less than other
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On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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O heresy in fair, fit for these days, A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
William Shakespeare
But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them. Viola: Thy reason, man? Feste: Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.
William Shakespeare
For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
William Shakespeare
The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.
William Shakespeare
