William Shakespeare (April 26, 1564 (baptised) – April 23, 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon". His extant works, including some collaborations, consist of about 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, two epitaphs on a man named John Combe, one epitaph on Elias James, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. (Click for full Wikipedia article.)
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that
themselves commit.
Commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways.
Conscience does make cowards of us all.
Fortune brings in some boats that were not steered.
Good wombs have borne bad sons.
He that dies, pays all debts.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none.
In a false quarrel there is no true valour.
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
One may smile, and smile, and be a villian.
Pride went before, ambition follows him.
So wise so young, they say, do never live long.
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.
Tempt not the desperate man.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good that men do is often interred with their bones.
The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
The jewel of experience is paid with an infinite price.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
There's place and means for every man alive.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
What you know, you know.
What's done cannot be undone.
What's gone and what's past help
Should be past grief.
What's past is prologue.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her,
though I know she lies.
You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.
Categories: William Shakespeare
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