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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
Memorable
Absolutes
Absolute
Perfection
Pollute
Impurity
Doth
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Discharge my followers let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbrooke's fair day.
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I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth.
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It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
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Assume a virtue if you have it not.
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Where I could not be honest, I never yet was valiant.
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Time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will.
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It were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell.
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Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
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Contention, like a horse, Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.
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Live loath'd and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time flies Cap and knee slaves, vapors, and minute jacks.
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Tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons.
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One sees more devils than vast hell can hold
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The object of Art is to give life a shape.
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O comfort-killing night, image of hell, Dim register and notary of shame, Black stage for tragedies and murders fell, Vast sin-concealing chaos, nurse of blame!
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When the mind's free, The Body's delicate.
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Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
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In springtime, the only pretty ring time Birds sing, hey ding A-ding, a-ding Sweet lovers love the spring—
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But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offense, Crying, 'That's good that's gone.
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A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
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O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!
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