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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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
Define
Mad
Madness
Else
True
Truth
Nothing
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us.
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Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.
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These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
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How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!
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Beauty itself doth of itself persuade the eyes of men without an orator.
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You shall more command with years than with your weapons.
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To take arms against a sea of troubles.
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Where is your ancient courage? You were used to say extremities was the trier of spirits That common chances common men could bear That when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.
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Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.
William Shakespeare
Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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O sir, you are old nature in you stands on the very verge of her confine you should be ruled and led by some discretion, that discerns your fate better than you yourself.
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O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
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Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o'Sunday
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When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!
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Time is a very bankrupt and owes more than he's worth to season. Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say, That Time comes stealing on by night and day?
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Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.
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If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
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A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
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He that dies this year is quit for the next.
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A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.
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