Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
