1963 ordspråk av William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare
Words pay no debts.
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Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
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Would I were dead, if God's good will were so, For what is in this world but grief and woe?
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Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.
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Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity.
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Yet do I fear thy nature; it is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
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Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?
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Yield not thy neck to fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind still ride in triumph over all mischance.
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Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous
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You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave.
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You are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you.
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You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valor plucks dead lions by the beard
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You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch, therefore bear you the lantern.
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You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valor, but to bear
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