Quote

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind So flew'd, so sanded their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.

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
Morning
Bred
Faces
Dew
Away
Flew
Spartan
Kind
Sat
Bulldogs
Hung
Toads
Heads
Hounds
Ears
Adorable
Dog
Sweep

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I do know when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.
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What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
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When I was at home I was in a better place
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Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
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And in some perfumes there is more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound.
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Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
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Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty.
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Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of gold that (by chance) I found. It beggars any man that keeps it.
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Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
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Love is your master, for he masters you And he that is so yoked by a fool Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.
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I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
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By my troth, I care not a man can die but once we owe God a death and let it go which way it will he that dies this year is quit for the next
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She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
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O' What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!
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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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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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