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Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
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
Ground
Sea
Thousand
Acre
Give
Tempest
Giving
Acres
Would
Barren
Estates
Memorable
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Small to greater matters must give way.
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O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!
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Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
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But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
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The fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon.
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Truly the souls of men are full of dread: Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear.
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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!
William Shakespeare
There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
William Shakespeare
There's husbandry in heaven Their candles are all out.
William Shakespeare
So far be distant and good night, sweet friend: thy love ne'er alter, till they sweet life end
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Every cloud engenders not a storm.
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If I had my mouth, I would bite if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not toalter me.
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Give thanks for what you are today and go on fighting for what you gone be tomorrow
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Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
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Take physic, pomp Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them And show the heavens more just.
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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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The wounds invisible that Love's keen arrows make.
William Shakespeare
Who is it can read a woman?
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Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
William Shakespeare
That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
William Shakespeare
