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.
–Macbeth,
Act V, Scene v
… But maybe, also, don’t go around murdering everyone. You’ll feel better.
Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver’d boy.
-Macbeth,
Act V, Scene iii
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.
-Macbeth,
Act V, Scene v
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s
In deepest consequence.
–Macbeth,
Act I, Scene iii
The bright day is done,
And we are for the Dark.
–Antony and Cleopatra,
Act V, Scene ii
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
–Macbeth,
Act I, Scene vii
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.
—Macbeth,
Act V, Scene v