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Let the sap of reason quench the fire of passion.
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
Quench
Sap
Fire
Passion
Reason
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Thou whoreson, senseless villain!
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The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.
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O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
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Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.
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Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
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Now I will believe that there are unicorns.
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Falsehood falsehood cures
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A whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha?
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Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
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When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.
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Tis the mind that makes the body rich.
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So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.
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Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!
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Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
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Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity?
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O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
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Do not banish reason for inequality but let your reason serve to make the truth appear where it seems hid, and hide the false seems true.
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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Nay, had I pow'r, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
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At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth But like of each thing that in season grows.
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