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You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
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
Sleep
Sleeplessness
Natures
Insomnia
Season
Seasons
Lack
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The weakest goes to the wall.
William Shakespeare
So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown When judges have been babes great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
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What must be shall be.
William Shakespeare
It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
William Shakespeare
Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.
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But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
William Shakespeare
If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground
William Shakespeare
Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come if it be not to come, it will be now if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.
William Shakespeare
Pray you now, forget and forgive.
William Shakespeare
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
William Shakespeare
Let us kill all lawyers
William Shakespeare
A man should be what he seems.
William Shakespeare
Such antics do not amount to a man.
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Nay, had I pow'r, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
William Shakespeare
Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.
William Shakespeare
Heaven give you many, many merry days.
William Shakespeare
For you and I are past our dancing days.
William Shakespeare
Silence is the perfect herald of joy.
William Shakespeare
Report me and my cause aright.
William Shakespeare
How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
William Shakespeare
