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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
Make
Love
Cupid
Keen
Arrows
Wounds
Invisible
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Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
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He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.
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Look on beauty, And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight, Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it.
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Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.
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Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
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It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of another.
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Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.
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I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.
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You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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A politician... one that would circumvent God.
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For grief is crowned with consolation.
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That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimms, and makes it indistinct As water is in water
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I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
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