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Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.
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
Heart
Shortly
Liking
Repent
Suddenly
Strength
Shall
Wells
Well
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The rest, is silence.
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For conspiracy, I know not how it tastes, though it be dished For me to try how.
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How many cowards whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who inward searched, have livers white as milk!
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No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
William Shakespeare
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
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Some falls the means are happier to rise.
William Shakespeare
Get thee to a nunnery.
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The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.
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He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.
William Shakespeare
These violent delights have violent ends.
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Frailty, thy name is woman!
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This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.
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Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
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O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a robe, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such pain the cap of him that makes him fine Yet keeps his book uncrossed.
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Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
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Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.
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Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
William Shakespeare
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
William Shakespeare
My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
William Shakespeare
To you your father should be as a god.
William Shakespeare
