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The present eye praises the present object.
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
Present
Eye
Praises
Object
Praise
Objects
More quotes by William Shakespeare
How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
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He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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Full of wise saws and modern instances.
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For what is wedlock forced but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace.
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To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.
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It is a sin to be a mocker.
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Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But like a thrifty goddess she determines Herself the glory of a creditor,Both thanks and use.
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Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.
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But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows.
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A flock of blessings light upon thy back
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A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.
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It is silliness to live when to live is torment.
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.
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O the world is but a word were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!
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Seek happy nights to happy days.W
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Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.
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What I have done is yours what I have to do is yours being part in all I have, devoted yours.
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He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
William Shakespeare
When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
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