Important Macbeth Quotes

I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.

If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well. It were done quickly.

Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

A little water clears us of this deed.

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!

Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.

Out, damned spot! Out, I say!

Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see

The instruments of darkness tell us truths.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.

We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail.

There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.

There's husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out.

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

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 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.

Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.

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.

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.

Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady 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.

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence

I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none

Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast...

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.