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Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
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
None
Youth
Though
Else
Rebels
Rebel
Near
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Truth needs no color beauty, no pencil.
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Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?
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The nature of bad news affects the teller.
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Let no such man be trusted.
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Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.
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Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
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The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase Even as our days do grow!
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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I wish you all the joy that you can wish.
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The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which.
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Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
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Thou know'st 'tis common all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
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Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!
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How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!
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My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life both grow in one Take honor from me, and my life is done.
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O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
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If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well. It were done quickly.
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Base is the slave that pays.
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But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike.
William Shakespeare