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I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only
vaulting ambition, which overleaps itself and falls
Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair.
Hover through the fog and filthy air
Out Damned spot! ... Hell is murky …
What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account
Come you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here and
fill me from the crown to the toe - top full of direst cruelty
Lesser than Macbeth
and greater
Not so happy,
yet much happier
Though shalt get kings
Though thou be none
I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from its boneless gums and
dashed the brains out had i sworn as you have done to this
Out, out, brief candle! Lifes but a walking shadow, a p
oor pllayer that struts and frets his hour apon the stage and then is heard no more
look like the innocent flower,
but be the serpent underneath
I gin to be weary of the sun and wish the
estate of the world were now undone