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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
Absolutes
Absolute
Perfection
Pollute
Impurity
Doth
Memorable
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The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
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... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.
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I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
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Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
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A pal is one that is aware you while you are, understands where you have already been, accepts whatever you are becoming, and continue to, carefully means that you can develop.
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I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
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Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
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Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.
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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
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Frailty, thy name is woman!
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And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
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A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.
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Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
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One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony.
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Patch grief with proverbs.
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How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
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It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
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Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear.
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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more Or close the wall with our English dead.
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Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.
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