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We make trifles of terrors, Ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, When we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
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
Trifles
Seeming
Submit
Unknown
Terror
Knowledge
Fear
Make
Terrors
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Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
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Murder most foul, as in the best it it But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
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But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great: Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose but Fortune, O!
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Glory is like a circle in the water
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Take you me for a sponge?
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He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker, spare him if stronger, spare thyself.
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Every fair from fair sometime declines
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Speak low, if you speak love.
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'Tis thought the king is dead we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd.
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Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.
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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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Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
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Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do.
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Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
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Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But like a thrifty goddess she determines Herself the glory of a creditor,Both thanks and use.
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Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.
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The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
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Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
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The prize of all too precious you.
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Make the upcoming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim.
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