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My love's more richer than my tongue.
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
Richer
Tongue
Love
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The gloomy shade of death.
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She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.
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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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He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
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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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Celebrity is never more admired than by the negligent.
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After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.
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When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree.
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I'll have no husband, if you be not he.
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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When the age is in, the wit is out
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My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
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Trip over love, you can get up. Fall in love and you fall forever. Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
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O, the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
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What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
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Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
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Truth is truth to the end of reckoning.
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a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.
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