I have livd long enough: my way of life — Macbeth

"I drink to the general joy o the whole table, And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all."

"Had I but died an hour before this chance I had livd a blessed time; for, from this instant, Theres nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys; renown and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of."

"Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep, — the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravelld sleave of care, The death of each days life, sore labors bath, Balm of hurt minds, great natures second course, Chief nourisher in lifes feast."

"My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther. Only I say Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth; marry, he was dead. And the right valiant Banquo walked too late, Whom you may say, if ’t please you, Fleance killed, For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? Damnèd fact, How it did grieve Macbeth! Did he not straight In pious rage the two delinquents tear That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely, too, For ’twould have angered any heart alive To hear the men deny ’t. So that I say He has borne all things well."

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair; Hover through the fog and filthy air."

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

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."

"yes is a pleasant country... love is a deeper season than reason"

"true lovers in each happening of their hearts live longer than all which and every who"

"What concerns me fundamentaly is a meteoric burlesk melodrama, born of the immemorial adage love will find a way."

"Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flower Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!"

"Unchanged within, to see all changed without, Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt. Yet why at others Wanings shouldst thou fret? Then only mightst thou feel a just regret, Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light In selfish forethought of neglect and slight."