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I am sure care's an enemy to life.
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
Enemy
Existence
Sure
Care
Life
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
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Preposterous ass, that never read so far to know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man, after his studies or his usual pain?
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Unquiet meals make ill digestions.
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If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
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And either victory, or else a grave.
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When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.
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I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.
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There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.
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Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
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When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again.
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We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
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The gloomy shade of death.
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Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.
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When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.
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Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as you will desire and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed-Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!
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Covering discretion with a coat of folly.
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I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots as a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.
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