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Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee 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
Goodbye
Kind
Spirits
Make
Sister
Thee
Elements
Comfort
Spirit
Fare
Wells
Farewell

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We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.
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We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
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To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
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Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.
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It provokes the desire but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him and it mars him it sets him on and it takes him off.
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Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.
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I'll look to like if looking, liking move.
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The labor we delight in physics [cures] pain.
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Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.
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And simple truth miscalled simplicity
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Look, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east! Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops.
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.
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One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
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. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
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Here's flowers for you Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
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O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
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