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Let me have war, say I it exceeds peace as far as day does night it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.

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
Doe
Vent
Exceeds
Exceed
Waking
Full
Peace
War
Night
Audible

More quotes by William Shakespeare

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I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
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This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
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He is the most wretched of men who has never felt adversity.
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Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, Nettled and stung with pismires[nettles], when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
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What, can the devil speak true?
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You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live.
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World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
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Ignorance is the curse of God knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
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Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
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The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo
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This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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Too nice, and yet too true!
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They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
William Shakespeare
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I do not set my life at a pin's fee, And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
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I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
William Shakespeare
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Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
William Shakespeare
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The weakest kind of fruit drops earliest to the ground.
William Shakespeare