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O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
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
Make
Knowing
Faint
Names
Doth
Use
Tied
Write
Speaking
Spirit
Tongue
Better
Praise
Might
Fame
Thereof
Writing
Name
Spends
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
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Happy thou art not for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get and what thou hast, forgettest.
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Allow not nature more than nature needs.
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Beware Of entrance to a quarrel.
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I fill up a place, which may be better... when I have made it empty.
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We that are true lovers run into strange capers but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
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The why is plain as way to parish church: He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob if not, The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
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Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
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Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.
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Cursed be he that moves my bones.
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I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
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It were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell.
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The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
William Shakespeare
And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man!
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Journeys end in lovers meeting.
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This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.
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From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.
William Shakespeare
My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
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Come give us a taste of your quality.
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Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.
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