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What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, for one to thrust his hand between his teeth, when he might spurn him with his foot away?
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
Hand
Valor
Away
Thrust
Hands
Doth
Might
Bravery
Contempt
Foot
Teeth
Spurn
Feet
Grin
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
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He hath eaten me out of house and home.
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Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.
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Tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death.
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The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst, 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
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A whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
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My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment.
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There was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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All difficulties are easy when they are known.
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Foul whisperings are abroad
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Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short he tires betimes that spurs too fast.
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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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Memory, the warder of the brain.
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All his successors gone before him have done 't and all his ancestors that come after him may.
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But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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I rather would entreat thy company To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
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I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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