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- Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Sonnet LVI
- Beware the ides of March.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Sonnet LVI
- In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing... sweet lovers love the spring.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), As You Like It, Act V, sc. 3
- Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), The Tempest, Act V, sc. 1
- Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Sonnet XVIII
- Why, this is very midsummer madness.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Twelfth Night, Act III, sc. 4
- That time of year thou may'st in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,- Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Sonnet LXXIII
- Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Richard III, Act I, sc. I
- A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Coriolanus, Act II, sc. 1
- Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV, sc. 15
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