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Thou art all the comfort, The Gods will diet me with.
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
Diet
Diets
Memorable
Gods
Thou
Comfort
Art
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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The apparel oft proclaims the man.
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Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
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It is held that valor is the chiefest virtue, and most dignifies the haver.
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Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
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Sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
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O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
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All the world's a stage, and all the men and women mearly players.
William Shakespeare
They are sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.
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I am the Prince of Wales and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
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The Devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.
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What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
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Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
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Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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Retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
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Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
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Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.
William Shakespeare
Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
William Shakespeare
GLOUCESTER: Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But God be thanked. . . .
William Shakespeare
