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A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us His dew falls everywhere.
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
Feeds
Falls
Charity
Everywhere
Land
Hand
Fall
Fruitful
Hands
Dew
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
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Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!
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We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.
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Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
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We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.
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Angels and ministers of grace defend us.
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What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
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To this urn let those repair That are either true or fair For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
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Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown, and grace is dead The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
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Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
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I understand a fury in your words But not your words.
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Silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
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My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except.
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In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.
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We were not born to sue, but to command.
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To die: - to sleep: No more and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
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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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The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
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Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
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Man and wife, being two, are one in love.
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