Here’s a selection of Lady Macbeth Quotes, covering topics such as power, murder, blood and evil.
We really hope you enjoy these quotes and that they give you something to think about.
That but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We’ld jump the life to come.
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We’ld jump the life to come.
Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
To beguile the time, look like the time.
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.
Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
Things without all remedy should be without regard: what’s done is done.
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire.
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under’t.
We fail!
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we’ll not fail.
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we’ll not fail.
Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow.
Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.
Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? – Lady Macbeth
A little water clears us of this deed.
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.
I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none
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