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I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.
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
Shows
Spirits
Philosophy
Shall
Chance
Show
History
Spirit
Cinders
Art
Ashes
More quotes by William Shakespeare
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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O heaven! that one might read the book of fate, and see the revolution of the times.
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I had rather live with cheese and garlic in a windmill.
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To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
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Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
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Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest terms?
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No sooner met but they looked no sooner looked but they loved no sooner loved but they sighed no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
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No .... holy father, throw away that thought. Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom.
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He is white-livered and red-faced.
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Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.
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How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
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Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil With them forgive yourself.
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I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him.
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That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.
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Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.
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Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.
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Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!
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How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
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