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I am not mad I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

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
Heaven
Forget
Would
Like
Depression
Mad
Illness
Grief

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Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.
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The cheek Is apter than the tongue to tell an errand.
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A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.
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Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
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In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life.
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He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
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For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.
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Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
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No, no 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
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Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.
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