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The wounds invisible that Love's keen arrows make.
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
Cupid
Keen
Arrows
Wounds
Invisible
Make
Love
More quotes by William Shakespeare
It is not night when I do see your face.
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O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable
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Silence is the perfect herald of joy.
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The will is deaf and hears no heedful friends.
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I'll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.
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Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot.
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See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
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To be, or not to be, that is the question.
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With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.
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There's husbandry in heaven Their candles are all out.
William Shakespeare
I say, without characters, fame lives long.
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So fair and foul a day i had not seen.
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I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
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'Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall.
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The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.
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Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come (Phebe)
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And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
William Shakespeare
Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
William Shakespeare
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
William Shakespeare
