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She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.
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
Abused
Relief
Gone
Must
Love
Vapor
Loathe
More quotes by William Shakespeare
It is a wise father that knows his own child.
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Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.
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Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.
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Religious canons, civil laws, are cruel then what should war be?
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Do all men kill the things they do not love?
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When he is best, he is a little worse than a man and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.
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If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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What, shall one of us, That struck for the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers--shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
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To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans coy looks, with heart-sore sighs one fading moment's mirth
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Let us kill all lawyers
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Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own
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I am not mad I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
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When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
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My love is thaw'd Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was
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By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
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What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.
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Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
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If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
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Under loves heavy burden do I sink. --Romeo
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