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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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
Talk
True
Begot
Dream
Juliet
Nothing
Idle
Children
Vain
Fantasy
Dreams
Brain
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
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Desperate times breed desperate measures
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My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
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Be not afraid of greatness.
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Silence is the perfect herald of joy.
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Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
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I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.
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The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.
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I'll privily away I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.
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Time does not have the same appeal for every one
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Two may keep counsel putting one away!
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Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.
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Can one desire too much of a good thing?
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Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile.
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By being seldom seen, I could not stir But like a comet I was wondered at.
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O Judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason !
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Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
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Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
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Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.
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Every great drama has its foreshadow.
William Shakespeare