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O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
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
Politics
Religion
Men
Momentary
Hunt
Hunts
Mortal
Mortals
Grace
More quotes by William Shakespeare
An angel or, if not, An earthly paragon.
William Shakespeare
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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Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
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I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.
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It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
William Shakespeare
Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.
William Shakespeare
Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
William Shakespeare
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
William Shakespeare
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!
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All the world's a stage.
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Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
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Plenty and peace breed cowards hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
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Take her away for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.
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Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.
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O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell
William Shakespeare
A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.
William Shakespeare
He is white-livered and red-faced.
William Shakespeare
I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
William Shakespeare
