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Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones.
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Cursed be he that moves my bones.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry
-- Shakespeare's Epitaph
Related:
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet l...
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lxxxvii...
My nature is subdu'd To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cxi...
No, I am that I am, and they that level At my abuses reckon up their own.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cxxi...
And art made tongue-tied by authority.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet lxvi...
And beauty, making beautiful old rhyme.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet cvi...
And stretched metre of an antique song.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet xvii...
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- The Passionate Pilgrim, iii...
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Sonnets & other Poetry -- Sonnet xviii...