William Shakespeare, Macbeth Quotes
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The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. Lady Macbeth
Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Screw your courage to the sticking-place
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of manThat function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
What's done cannot be undone.
Each new mornNew widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrowsStrike heaven on the face, that it resoundsAs if it felt with Scotland, and yelled outLike syllable of dolor.
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:And you all know, securityIs mortals' chiefest enemy.
All causes shall give way: I am in bloodStepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.
Out, damned spot! out, I say!
And now about the cauldron singLike elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in.
And nothing is, but what is not.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.
Life is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing
To be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus...
Turn hell-hound, turn.
Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table." Macbeth
The Weird Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go, about, about, Thrice to thine, thrice to mine, And thrice again to make up nine.Peace, the charm's wound up.
Life ... is a taleTold 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 taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
The grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.
The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.
Nought’s had, all’s spent, where our desire is got without content.
Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.
Go, prick thy face and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-livered boy.
Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.
Macbeth:If we should fail?Lady Macbeth:We fail?But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail.
Let every man be master of his time.
Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day.
it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance
I have no spurTo prick the sides of my intent, but onlyVaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itselfAnd falls on the other.
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, And look on death itself!
Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men and hang up them.
PORTERThis is a lot of knocking! Come to think of it, if a man were in charge of opening the gates of hell to let people in, he would have to turn the key a lot.
What's done, is done
...Who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make love known?
Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scornThe power of man, for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth.
Middle Tennessee? Really? My bracket is more busted than Screech's face during puberty.
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.
Fit to govern? No, not fit to live.