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What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion.
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
Oblivion
Ruin
Ruins
Past
Come
Time
Strew
Husks
Formless
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Wisdom and fortune combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it.
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Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
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Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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A light wife doth make a heavy husband.
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But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great: Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose but Fortune, O!
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Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
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Ships are but boards, sailors but men.
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Blessed are the peacemakers on earth.
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But pearls are fair and the old saying is: Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes.
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Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
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Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
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Things may serve long, but not serve ever.
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Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly a flower that dies when it begins to bud a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
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There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
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O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle I am no traitor's uncle, and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane.
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A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.
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Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires.
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Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask.
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This night I hold an old accustomed feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
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