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That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
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
Bring
Flats
Way
Roof
Ranges
Ruins
Heaps
Range
Piles
Lays
Distinctly
Foundation
Bury
City
Flat
Cities
Ruin
More quotes by William Shakespeare
In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
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Kindness nobler ever than revenge.
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My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.
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A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain,... makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes.
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A very little little let us do And all is done.
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Wisdom and fortune combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it.
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster!
William Shakespeare
O world, world! thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavor be so loved, and the performance so loathed?
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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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It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't.
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Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked?
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase you vile standing-tuck!
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Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.
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Virtue and genuine graces in themselves speak what no words can utter.
William Shakespeare
The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!
William Shakespeare
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
William Shakespeare
We have some salt of our youth in us.
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So far be distant and good night, sweet friend: thy love ne'er alter, till they sweet life end
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While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.
William Shakespeare
