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Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will!
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
View
Views
Eyes
Eye
Muffled
Stills
Impulsive
Still
Pathways
Without
Alas
Love
Whose
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I do not set my life at a pin's fee, And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
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Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
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I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.
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Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
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Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, any by my friends I am abused so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.
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Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe. There's nothing situate under heaven's eye But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky.
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Hot blood begets hot thoughts, And hot thoughts beget Hot deeds, And hot deeds is love.
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All the world's a stage.
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An overflow of good converts to bad.
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From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
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Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee Corruption wins not more than honesty.
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Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks
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How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best.
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Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.
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This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.
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What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
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What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again.
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