1963 ordspråk av William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.
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Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety, other women cloy
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Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
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Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
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Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we: For such as we are made of, such we be
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Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy...
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All goodness Is poison to thy stomach.
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All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy.
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All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of
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All is not well; I doubt some foul play.
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All lovers swear more performance than they are able
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All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.
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All places that the eye of heaven visits are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus; there is no virtue like necessity.
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All that glisters is not gold. Often you have heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
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