Quotes on Important Macbeth

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

There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.

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.

When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.

I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side

Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.

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

Is this a dagger which I see before me, _x000D_ _x000D_ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. _x000D_ _x000D_ I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. _x000D_ _x000D_ Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible _x000D_ _x000D_ To feeling as to sight? or art thou but _x000D_ _x000D_ A dagger of the mind, a false creation, _x000D_ _x000D_ Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well. It were done quickly.

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.

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

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.

Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

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.