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For many men that stumble at the threshold are well foretold that danger lurks within.
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
Danger
Within
Wells
Well
Many
Foretold
Men
Lurks
Stumble
Threshold
More quotes by William Shakespeare
... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.
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The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
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And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.
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Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
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Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
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Let's meet as little as we can
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It is the mind that makes the body rich and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit.
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Hope is a lover's staff walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.
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I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one.
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Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
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I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine.
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As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
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To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
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Heaven would that she these gifts should have, and I to live and die her slave.
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There is none of my uncle's marks upon you he taught me how to know a man in love in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
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Every why has a wherefore.
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The soul of this man is his clothes.
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Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
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Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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