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Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
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
Ends
Waves
Make
Shore
Time
Wave
Like
Changing
Forwards
Towards
Hasten
Minutes
Contend
Goes
Mortality
Place
Toil
More quotes by William Shakespeare
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds?
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Weep I cannot But my heart bleeds.
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So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.
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For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
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Thou whoreson, senseless villain!
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A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
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what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
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Doubt thou the stars are fire Doubt that the sun doth move Doubt truth to be a liar But never doubt I love.
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Men must learn now with pity to dispense For policy sits above conscience.
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What is the city but the people?
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The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
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... by indirections find directions out.
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Plenty and peace breed cowards hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
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He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.
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This feather stirs she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
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For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.
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Fight valiantly to-day and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.
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A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
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But she makes hungry Where she most satisfies.
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I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.
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