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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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
Words
Quick
Shows
Blow
Fortune
Painting
Thousand
Shall
Demonstrate
Moral
Blows
Show
Paintings
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thou whoreson zed! Thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. *all cheer for Shakespearean insults*
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As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods they kill us for their sport.
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You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame
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I bear a charmed life.
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Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
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Greatness knows itself.
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To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!
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This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
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Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
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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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I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
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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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What fates impose, that men must needs abide it boots not to resist both wind and tide.
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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
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He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.
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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.
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There is a world elsewhere.
William Shakespeare
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
William Shakespeare