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Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding.
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
Anger
Eating
Shall
Upon
Starve
Starvation
Feeding
Meat
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Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
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You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
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Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
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The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
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So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly it strikes where it doth love.
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RUMOUR: Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
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Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.
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O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
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Temptation: the fiend at my elbow.
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Have more than you show, Speak less than you know.
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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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Go, write it in a martial hand be curst and brief it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.
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Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.
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Ambition's debt is paid.
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That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in a storm.
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They say miracles are past.
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Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,- One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.
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