Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
A little water clears us of this deed.
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none
My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
The instruments of darkness tell us truths.
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.
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