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A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously the very ice of chastity is in them.
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
Ice
Kissing
Winter
Religiously
Nun
Sisterhood
Kisses
Chastity
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition.
William Shakespeare
Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
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Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
William Shakespeare
Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
William Shakespeare
I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.
William Shakespeare
Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.
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They were devils incarnate.
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Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
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Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end.
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Thou art a Castilian King urinal!
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I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
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Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.
William Shakespeare
I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
William Shakespeare
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
William Shakespeare
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
William Shakespeare