Quote

A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!

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
May
German
Ever
Watched
Right
Clock
Going
Watches
Never
Watch
Aright
Like
Woman
Repairing
Stills
Jewels
Still
Frame

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Would the cook were o' my mind!
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Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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The very instant I saw you, did My heart fly to your service there resides To make me slave to it. ...mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want.
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Nature does require her times of preservation.
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QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman I have a beard coming.
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There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
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My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel I know not where I am nor what I do.
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... And death unloads thee.
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Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
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The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.
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Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards.
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She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
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Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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Art made tongue-tied by authority.
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Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.
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What a piece of work is a man
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O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!
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Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?
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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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