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My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!

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
Food
Life
World
Excitement
Joy

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I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
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No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.
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Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
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My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
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To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
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Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
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Be wary then best safety lies in fear.
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Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.
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My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
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To whom God will, there be the victory.
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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Thou know'st 'tis common all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
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Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
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Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies Now thrive the armorers, and honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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Virtue and genuine graces in themselves speak what no words can utter.
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These blessed candles of the night.
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Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe
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Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more.
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I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.
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