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Do not spread the compost on the weeds.
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
Compost
Weeds
Confession
Weed
Spread
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Men should be what they seem Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.
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Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
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Time's glory is to command contending kings, To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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While thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head.
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love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit
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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
William Shakespeare
Speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.
William Shakespeare
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.
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O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
William Shakespeare
O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.
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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
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It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
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She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
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Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!
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O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
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A light wife doth make a heavy husband.
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The small amount of foolery wise men have makes a great show.
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So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
William Shakespeare