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Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.
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
Hard
Flint
Resting
Weariness
Sloth
Pillow
Laziness
Finds
Upon
Snore
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He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache
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Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.
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Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering.
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Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But bad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
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A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.
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Miracles are ceased and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.
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Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.
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Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.
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The mind of guilt is full of scorpions.
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity. O that estates, degrees, and offices Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
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All that glisters is not gold Often have you heard that told.
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But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly.
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My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except.
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Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love?
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Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
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There's many a man hath more hair than wit.
William Shakespeare
If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous men.
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