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But no perfection is so absolute, That some impurity doth not pollute.
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
Pollute
Impurity
Doth
Memorable
Absolutes
Absolute
Perfection
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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
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And all this day an unaccustomed spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
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All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.
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Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear
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Can it be chat modesty may more betray Our sense than woman's lightness?
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Journeys end in lovers meeting.
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For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
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Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.
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It is the mind that makes the body rich and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit.
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My way of life Is fall'n into the sear and yellow leaf.
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What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
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thy wit is a very bitter sweeting it is a most sharp sauce.
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He that dies pays all debts.
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Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
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If people knew how much I hated them, they'd love me for holding it in.
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I am wrapped in dismal thinking.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?
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