You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty!
William ShakespeareI have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have coolโd to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were inโt: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.
William Shakespeare