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A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.
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
Shuns
Repentance
External
Shame
Suffering
Evil
True
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.
William Shakespeare
Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.
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I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!
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Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid Fly away, fly away, breath I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
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Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.
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If thou dost love, proclaim it faithfully.
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What is the city but the people?
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For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.
William Shakespeare
O the world is but a word were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!
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A heavier task could not have been impos'd, Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable.
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom, More honored in the breach than the observance.
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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How now, wit! Whither wander you?
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I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.
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Leave us to our free election.
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Time is the king of men.
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For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
William Shakespeare
What e'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time.
William Shakespeare
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops, and the big wars That make ambition virtue.
William Shakespeare
