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Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest terms?
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
Hands
Fairs
Stills
Fair
Still
Fortune
Come
Terms
Writing
Full
Never
Term
Words
Write
Foulest
More quotes by William Shakespeare
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
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O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!
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A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting The perfume and suppliance of a minute No more.
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Season your admiration for a while.
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It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?
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Dreams, indeed, are ambition for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
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And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
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The leopard does not change his spots.
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You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
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Faint heart never won fair maid.
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Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes For treason is but trusted like the fox, Who, ne'er so tame, so cherished and locked up, Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
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O for a horse with wings!
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Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world, And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation.
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Say, thou art mine and ever, My love, as it begins, shall so persevere
William Shakespeare
Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
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Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.
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