A Quote by William Shakespeare

Frailty, thy name is woman! — © William Shakespeare
Frailty, thy name is woman!
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
O SON OF MAN! I loved thy creation, hence I created thee. Wherefore, do thou love Me, that I may name thy name and fill thy soul with the spirit of life.
And also to the alien, who is not of Thy people Israel, but comes from a distant land on account of Thy fame; for hearing of Thy great name and Thy strong hand, and Thine outstretched arm, he comes to this house to pray... do Thou listen in the heavens, the place where Thou dwellest, and perform all that the alien begs of Thee, so that all the peoples of the earth may know Thy name, to fear Thee like Thine own people Israel, and to know that Thy name is proclaimed over this house that I have built.
Time is lord of thee: Thy wealth, thy glory, and thy name are his.
This Force, by troth, I'll never comprehend! It doth control and also doth obey? And 'tis within and yet it is beyond, 'Tis both inside and yet outside one's self? What paradox! What fickle-natur'd pow'r! Aye: frailty, thy name-- belike--is Force.
Immortal Spenser, no frailty hath thy fame but the imputation of this idiot's friendship!
To serve thy generation, this thy fate: "Written in water," swiftly fades thy name; But he who loves his kind does, first and late, A work too late for fame.
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is montegue? tis nor hand nor foot nor any other part belonging to a man What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, So Romeo would were he not Romeo called retain such dear perfection to which he owes without that title, Romeo, Doth thy name! And for that name which is no part of thee, take all thyself.
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll, And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole, Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly, Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky. Then let the good Thy mighty name revere, And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.
In a storm, I think, 'What if the gospel be not true? Then thou art, of all men, most foolish. For what has thou given up thy goods, thy ease, thy friends, thy reputation, thy country, thy life?'
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame.
If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the life-blood of thy son. And thous didst it of thine obstinacy. For I sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thy name, for I thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I appealed unto thy heart in vain, and now is the time gone for meeting.
What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances.
What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances
Come, and see the victories of the cross. Christ's wounds are thy healings, His agonies thy repose, His conflicts thy conquests, His groans thy songs, His pains thine ease, His shame thy glory, His death thy life, His sufferings thy salvation.
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