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A book? O, rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers.
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
Garment
Nobler
Garments
Covers
Rare
Book
World
More quotes by William Shakespeare
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.
William Shakespeare
I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world.
William Shakespeare
Thou frothy tickle-brained hedge-pig!
William Shakespeare
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.
William Shakespeare
Love goes toward love.
William Shakespeare
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
William Shakespeare
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!
William Shakespeare
A smile cures the wounding of a frown.
William Shakespeare
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
William Shakespeare
A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel he drinks no wine.
William Shakespeare
But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
William Shakespeare
The best is yet to come.
William Shakespeare
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
William Shakespeare
We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.
William Shakespeare
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
William Shakespeare
You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame
William Shakespeare
Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
William Shakespeare
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!
William Shakespeare
For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas
William Shakespeare
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.
William Shakespeare
