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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
How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.
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Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden.
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What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.
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We that are true lovers run into strange capers.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.
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Delivers in such apt and gracious words that aged ears play truant at his tales And younger hearings are quite ravished So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
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Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.
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There's not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves.
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He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.
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we are the lords of all eternity
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Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
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Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?
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POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord? HAMLET: Words, words, words.
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Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
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My love's more richer than my tongue.
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If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
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We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
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Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words since I first called my brother's father dad.
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And all this day an unaccustomed spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
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