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I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well
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
Well
Follow
Make
Hell
Love
Hand
Dies
Heaven
Upon
Hands
Midsummer
Wells
Thee
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I have nothing Of woman in me now from head to foot I am marble-constant.
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Tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons.
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Ay, but to die and go we know not where To lie in cold obstrution and to rot This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.
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Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.
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And makes me poor indeed.
William Shakespeare
I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.
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To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans coy looks, with heart-sore sighs one fading moment's mirth
William Shakespeare
I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests but now I'll set my teeth And send to darkness all that stop me.
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If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
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But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.
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Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.
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O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet fondly loves!
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Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared.
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I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.
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In limited professions there's boundless theft.
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Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
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I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.
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Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.
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It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.
William Shakespeare
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
William Shakespeare