Quotes on Darkness In Macbeth

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.

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.

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.

All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see

Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day.

My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.