There's nothing wicked in Shakespeare, and if there is I don't want to know it.
She looked utterly betrayed, as betrayed as the most betrayed person in Shakespeare.
How we lavish our money and worship on Shakespeare without in the least knowing why!
O, that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.
I have drunk,and seen the spider."(Leontine, Act II Scene I)
That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet
One can forgive Shakespeare anything, except one's own bad lines.
Shakespeare 'never owned a book,' a writer for the New York Times gravely informed readers in one doubting article in 2002. The statement cannot actually be refuted, for we know nothing about his inci...
Shakespeare is to me the purest voice of nature, and he does no meddle with nature. His plays provide us with the greatest variety of erotic expression, and with Shakespeare eros is the proper term to...
To be honest, as this world goes is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.Hamlet Act II, Scene II Lines 178-179
If we wish to know the force of human genius we should read Shakespeare. If we wish to see the insignificance of human learning we may only study his commentators. ["On the Ignorance of the Learned"]
As with modern totalitarian regimes, people developed techniques for speaking in code, addressing at one or more removes what most mattered to them. But it was not only caution that motivated Shakespe...
If there really had been a Mercutio, and if there really were a Paradise, Mercutio might be hanging out with teenage Vietnam draftee casualties now, talking about what it felt like to die for other pe...
My Crown is in my heart, not on my head:Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:Nor to be seen: my Crown is call'd Content,A Crown it is, that seldom Kings enjoy.
The very stone one kicks with one's boot will outlast Shakespeare.
If you want a language to survive, capture great thoughts within it. William Shakespeare has ensured Elizabethan English will never perish from this world.
If I could write the beauty of your eyesAnd in fresh numbers number all your graces,The age to come would say 'this poet lies! Such heaven never touched earthly faces
The rest is silence.
For where Love reigns, disturbing JealousyDoth call himself Affection's sentinel;Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,And in a peaceful hour doth cry 'Kill, kill!
Shakespeare is getting flyblown; a paternal government might well forbid writing about him, as they put his monument at Stratford beyond the reach of scribbling fingers. With all this buzz of criticis...
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