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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues.
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
Good
Virtues
Would
Ill
Life
Faults
Despair
Mingled
Crime
Yarn
Proud
Whipped
Virtue
Cherished
Together
Crimes
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
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Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
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Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
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What is more miserable than discontent?
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Have patience, and endure
William Shakespeare
Appetite, a universal wolf.
William Shakespeare
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.
William Shakespeare
Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.
William Shakespeare
Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
William Shakespeare
And how his audit stands who knows, save Heaven?
William Shakespeare
In delay there lies no plenty.
William Shakespeare
Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.
William Shakespeare
Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.
William Shakespeare
Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
William Shakespeare
A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.
William Shakespeare
Death-counterfeiting sleep.
William Shakespeare
The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
William Shakespeare
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.
William Shakespeare
So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
William Shakespeare
O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
William Shakespeare
