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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
Still
Pathways
Without
Alas
Love
Whose
View
Views
Eyes
Eye
Muffled
Stills
Impulsive
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Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
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But 'tis common proof, that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face but when he once attains the upmost round, he then turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the vase defrees by which he did ascend.
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We are such stuff that dreams are made of.
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To be furious, is to be frighted out of fear.
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I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.
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wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.
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I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
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But whate'er I am, nor I nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased 'til he be eased With being nothing.
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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What is past is prologue.
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What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
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But say, my lord, it were not regist'red, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retailed to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day.
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Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind And makes it fearful and degenerate.
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