Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
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.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 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.
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.
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
The instruments of darkness tell us truths.
Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
A little water clears us of this deed.
or simply:
