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With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out
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
Wall
Hold
Cannot
Light
Perch
Love
Stony
Walls
Wings
Limits
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
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There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.
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Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
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Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
William Shakespeare
Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.
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For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all
William Shakespeare
Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.
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This fell sergeant, Death, Is strict in his arrest.
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Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
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Tis not the many oaths that make the truth But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.
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O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
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Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?
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Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
William Shakespeare
What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
William Shakespeare
Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!
William Shakespeare
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven's lieutenants.
William Shakespeare