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

I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other.

So fair and foul a day I have not seen.

Infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.

What do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by.
Richard loves Richard; that is, I and I.

Give your sorrow words. The grief that does not speak builds up softly in the heart, and bids it break.