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GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.
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
Infant
Odds
Thank
Humility
Alive
Born
Gloucester
Night
Englishman
Soul
Englishmen
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship and such fair ostents of love As shall conveniently become you there.
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My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lies in sweetest bud. All men make faults.
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I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
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Some men never seem to grow old. Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be.
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Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canter dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
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I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
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Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.
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Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me
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The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
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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.
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Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
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If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear.
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
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O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)
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To bed, to bed sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses, As infants empty of all thought.
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I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.
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The sense of death is most in apprehension.
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