Quote

For youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds Importing health and graveness.

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
Age
Weeds
Less
Wears
Light
Careless
Settled
Weed
Youth
Health
Importing
Becomes
Livery

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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
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Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
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Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
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Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
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Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.
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Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.
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Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!
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But like of each thing that in season grows.
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You have her father's love, Demetrius Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him!
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Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.
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My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers I'll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speaks mournfully, Trail your steel spikes. Though in this city he Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.
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Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
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Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards.
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Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
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Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
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Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
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Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
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