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Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering.
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
Eyes
Eye
Death
Even
Peering
Life
Spy
Hollow
Immortality
Comfort
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible.
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But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
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Thou hast her, France let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
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Contention, like a horse, Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.
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Ha. Against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner. There's a double meaning in that. -Benedick (Much Ado)
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But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
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Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
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Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
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Too much to know is to know naught but fame.
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Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
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Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
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If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
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Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
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O heaven! that one might read the book of fate, and see the revolution of the times.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love?
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I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.
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There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings.
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That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
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Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
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When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.
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