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By Heaven, I love thee better than myself
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
Heaven
Better
Love
Juliet
Thee
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
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It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion and all made of wishes, All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance
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Murder most foul, as in the best it it But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
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Women may fall when there's no strength in men.
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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Have more than you show, Speak less than you know.
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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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She dreams of him that has forgot her love You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!
William Shakespeare
Let him smell his way to Dover!
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Tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fear of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.
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And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
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Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.
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Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.
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The heart hath treble wrong When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.
William Shakespeare
Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.
William Shakespeare
I shall despair. There is no creature loves me And if I die no soul will pity me: And wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself?
William Shakespeare
