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Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
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
Golden
Wings
Ambition
Sun
Soars
Melts
Soar
Near
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
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You are a tedious fool.
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Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.
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A hit, a very palpable hit.
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...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
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I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
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Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
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Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
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Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
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The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.
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Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, Not to outsport discretion.
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'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.
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O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
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We that are true lovers run into strange capers but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
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Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, more than quick words, do move a woman's mind.
William Shakespeare
I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
William Shakespeare
My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
William Shakespeare
