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How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
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
Young
Wanes
Long
Lingers
Men
Withering
Like
Revenue
Desires
Slow
Moon
Desire
Dowager
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
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Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog.
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When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.
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I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.
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O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest - A dammed saint, an honourable villain!
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A pal is one that is aware you while you are, understands where you have already been, accepts whatever you are becoming, and continue to, carefully means that you can develop.
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Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.
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Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep.
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Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather have eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
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Nothing routs us but the villainy of our fears.
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Your worm is your only emperor for diet we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots.
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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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In right and service to their noble country.
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There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently
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I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.
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Two may keep counsel putting one away!
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I am ill at these numbers.
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