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