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When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree.
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
Cannot
Give
Plucked
Must
Wither
Giving
Vital
Needs
Smell
Rose
Growth
Tree
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
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wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.
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Holy, fair, and wise is she The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.
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The king's name is a tower of strength.
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That which I would discover The law of friendship bids me to conceal.
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I may command where I adore.
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Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash ’tis something, nothing ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
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There's a time for all things.
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Give sorrow words the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.
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They love least that let men know their loves.
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He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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For the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large.
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Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
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I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well
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Be not afeard the isle is full of noises.
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If it be aught toward the general good, Set honor in one eye and death i' th' other, And I will look on both indifferently For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honor more than I fear death.
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In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.
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