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Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
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
Great
Flint
Scarce
Anger
Rocks
Fight
Fighting
Speak
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground
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Shine out fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass.
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My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.
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My falcon now is sharp and passing empty, and till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, for then she never looks upon her lure.
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Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.
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Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
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I could be well content To entertain the lag-end of my life With quiet hours.
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Speak, what trade art thou? Why, sir, a carpenter. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What does thou with thy best apparel on?
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I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
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I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
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Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
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I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
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These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
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Now the time is come, That France must veil her lofty-plumed crest, And let her head fall into England's lap.
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Tis gold Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief, Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.
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The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
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