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There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
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
Within
Lives
Kind
Abate
Love
Wick
Snuff
Breakup
Flame
Flames
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The eagle suffers little birds to sing.
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As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not (5.3.25-28).
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Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
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God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.
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But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
William Shakespeare
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.
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How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
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Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
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...an old man is twice a child.
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What a fool honesty is.
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You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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And send him many years of sunshine days!
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Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
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Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?
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Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.
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The quality of mercy is not strained
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Sometimes we are devils to ourselves When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.
William Shakespeare
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.
William Shakespeare