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I do not hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.

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
Toads
Pride
Proud
Hate
Men
Engendering

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Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
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What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
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And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
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I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear.
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The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, From earth to heaven.
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False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
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I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.
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It is the disease of not listening...... that I am troubled with.
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Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.
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Love is a wonderful, terrible thing
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I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.
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When the age is in, the wit is out
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A fool's bolt is soon shot.
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Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!
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Virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
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A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond justice rails upon yon simple thief. Hark, in thine ear: change places and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief?
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Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
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Make not your thoughts your prisons.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court... and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
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The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.
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