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The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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
Fresh
Seasons
Frosts
Rose
Hoary
Flower
Crimson
Fall
Lap
Frost
Headed
Alter
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
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A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.
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Is she not passing fair?
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Like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.
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You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
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I will go wash And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no.
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To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.
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So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly it strikes where it doth love.
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The cunning livery of hell.
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Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.
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The love of wicked men converts to fear That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
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Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
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Time, whose millioned accidents creep in betwixt vows, and change decrees of kings, tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, divert strong minds to the course of altering things.
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
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There is none of my uncle's marks upon you he taught me how to know a man in love in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
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Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is! (Act 1, scene 1)
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Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.
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Beauty lives with kindness.
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