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O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple.
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
Faces
Steeples
Men
Inscrutable
Jest
Unseen
Nose
Noses
Invisible
Face
Steeple
More quotes by William Shakespeare
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
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The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.
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It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
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When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.
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That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)
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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
My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
William Shakespeare
Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.
William Shakespeare
Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
William Shakespeare
In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
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I'll teach you differences.
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Love is . . . a madness most discreet
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I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one.
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What's done can't be undone.
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The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love.
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Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain If lost, why then a grievous labour won However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
William Shakespeare