William Shakespeare

Make not your thoughts your prisons.

First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

Second Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! MACBETH Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means!

This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This prescious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England . . .

Thought is free.

Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

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

Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.

. . . the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.