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Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.
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
Behind
Another
Every
Neighbour
Men
Hanging
Bags
Puts
Faults
Behinds
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A very scurvy fellow.
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Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath.
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Words are easy, like the wind Faithful friends are hard to find.
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Ay me! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.
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I am declined Into the vale of years.
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The strawberry grows underneath the nettle And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality.
William Shakespeare
Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
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If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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To you your father should be as a god.
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And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot And thereby hangs a tale.
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For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.
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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.
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Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
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Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
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To whom God will, there be the victory.
William Shakespeare
Falsehood falsehood cures
William Shakespeare
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
William Shakespeare
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
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Some there be that shadows kiss Such have but a shadow's bliss.
William Shakespeare
For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.
William Shakespeare
