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No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No...
It will have blood, theysay. Blood will have blood.Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak.
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke. It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds.
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more.