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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.
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
True
Rosy
Mind
Impediments
Love
Sensibility
Memorable
Finds
Admit
Alteration
Minds
Alters
Marriage
Alterations
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I speak of peace, while covert enmity under the smile of safety wounds the world
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Ha. Against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner. There's a double meaning in that. -Benedick (Much Ado)
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...lest too light winning make the prize light.
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I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes when they are in great danger I recover them.
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Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
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Prosperity's the very bond of love.
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Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well and yet words are not deeds.
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Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
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Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
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What's the news? None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest, Then is doomsday near.
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Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.
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Words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them.
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Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
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Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
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Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly a flower that dies when it begins to bud a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
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To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
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If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
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Miracles are ceased and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.
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We make trifles of terrors, Ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, When we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
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