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Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.
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
Till
Absence
Presence
Sharpen
Brings
Strengthens
Blow
Burns
Distance
Blows
Clear
Doth
Love
Fuel
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Are you up to your destiny?
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Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
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QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman I have a beard coming.
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My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!
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My soul is in the sky.
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There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous men.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
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And either victory, or else a grave.
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I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
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Our praises are our wages.
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Dream in light years, challenge miles, walk step by step
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If fortune torments me, hope contents me.
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We are not ourselves When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind To suffer with the body.
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Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.
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O heresy in fair, fit for these days, A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
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