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Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.

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
Blessing
Stolen
Profit

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It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
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Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece.
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Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off.
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O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell
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ROMEO to BALTHASAR But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
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Be not afraid of greatness.
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Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
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What a deformed thief this fashion is.
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
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If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
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So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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Cold indeed, and labor lost: Then farewell heat, and welcome frost!
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If money go before, all ways do lie open.
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Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.
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See where she comes apparelled like the spring.
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Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
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Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love?
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