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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
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
Helping
Angel
Struggling
Art
Struggle
Repentance
Sinews
States
State
Steel
Bosom
Soul
Help
Strings
Bosoms
Heart
Free
Angels
Babe
Make
Born
Soft
Bows
Black
Knees
Stubborn
Death
Engaged
Wretched
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A pal is one that is aware you while you are, understands where you have already been, accepts whatever you are becoming, and continue to, carefully means that you can develop.
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On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.
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Trip over love, you can get up. Fall in love and you fall forever. Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
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Travelers must be content.
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He is winding the watch of his wit by and by it will strike.
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Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.
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Heaven is above all yet there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
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A good wit will make use of anything.
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Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well and yet words are not deeds.
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Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
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Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
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Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.
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Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
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Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense?
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But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offenses as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
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He says, he loves my daughter I think so too for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand and read, As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, Who loves another best.
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Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks: Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books.
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
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