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I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.

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
Thinking
Woman
Women
Reason
Think

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And nothing is, but what is not.
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Stars hide your fires let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
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Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.
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Allow not nature more than nature needs.
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Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? to set so rich a main On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good.
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A flock of blessings light upon thy back
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JAQUES: Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO: Yes, just. JAQUES: I do not like her name. ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.
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A very honest woman but something given to lie
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There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity profound conceit As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
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One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
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Thou lump of foul deformity!
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All offences come from the heart.
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God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.
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Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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Thou art a very ragged Wart.
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Gold--what can it not do, and undo?
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