Quote

Behold the threaden sails, Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, Breasting the lofty surge

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
Huge
Sail
Furrow
Ships
Bottoms
Draw
Surge
Invisible
Creeping
Draws
Sails
Bottom
Borne
Sea
Behold
Wind
Lofty

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To business that we love we rise betime, and go to't with delight.
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For the poor wren (The most diminutive of birds) will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
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They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.
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A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.
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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
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Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.
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Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest. Evils that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil.
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Shine out fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass.
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Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, To signify thou camest to bite the world.
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He says, he loves my daughter I think so too for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand and read, As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, Who loves another best.
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There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind
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Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit and for lovers, lacking--God warn us!--matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
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Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well and yet words are not deeds.
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O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due.
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No, I will be the pattern of all patience I will say nothing.
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Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you.
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I can no longer live by thinking.
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This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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