Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!

Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?

I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

Come my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.

Don't judge a man's conscience by looking at his face cause he may have a bad heart.

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.