Emotions and Feelings

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.

When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart.

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth.

I am in blood Stepp’d in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.

What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm’d rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.

What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm’d rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.

Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mockery, hence!

The air-drawn dagger.

Thou canst not say I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me.

Thou canst not say I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me.

But now I am cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.

But now I am cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.

So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on ’t.

So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on ’t.

Murderer: We are men, my liege. Macbeth: Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men.

I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incens’d that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.

Who can be wise, amaz’d, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence The life o’ the building!

The labor we delight in physics pain.