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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'

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
Would
Eyes
Fresh
Age
Touch
Lying
Lies
Faces
Poet
Eye
Number
Graces
Write
Grace
Touches
Come
Numbers
Earthly
Writing
Beauty
Heavenly

More quotes by William Shakespeare

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Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently.
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Time travels at different speeds for different people. I can tell you who time strolls for, who it trots for, who it gallops for, and who it stops cold for.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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Costly thy habit [dress] as thy purse can buy But not expressed in fancy - rich, not gaudy. For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
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Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
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He doth nothing but talk of his horses.
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Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, . . . This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land.
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You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.
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What is the city but the people?
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Haste is needful in a desperate case.
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Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
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Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
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If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
William Shakespeare
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whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.
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Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
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I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.
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O Ceremony, show me but thy worth? What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men?
William Shakespeare