“By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.”
“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.”
“Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.”
“Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!”
“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”
“Life ... is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
“Look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it.”
“...Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, and in that heart
Courage to make love known?”
“Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
“False face must hide what the false heart doth know.”
“I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none”
“Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.”
“Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won”
“Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.”
“Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.”
“Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry "Hold, hold!”
“All causes shall give way: I am in blood
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”
“O, full of scorpions is my mind!”
“Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.”
“it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance”
“Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
“Out, damned spot! out, I say!”
“My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.”
“Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor?
Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest.
Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.”
“So fair and foul a day I have not seen.”
“The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.”
“I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
And falls on the other.”
“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet Grace must still look so.”
“Most people would say that being in love was the best feeling in the world, and to some degree, I would agree with them, but not when all you could think about was losing it or watching something awful happen so that your heart shatters into a thousand tiny, jagged little pieces. No, being in love was more frightening than gratifying.”
“Nie mogę więc się skarżyć, jednak coś z życia wyciągnąłem, a że inni więcej, no cóż, zresztą kto ich wie, każdy tylko trajluje, przechwala się, że z tą, że z
tamtą, a naprawdę bida z nędzą, wraca do domu, siada, buty zdejmuje, do łóżka się kładzie sam z sobą, więc po co tyle gadania, ja przynajmniej, wie pan, jak człowiek tak na sobie się skupi i zacznie sobie małe, nieznaczne przyjemnostki świadczyć, nie tylko
zresztą erotyczne, bo na przykład, może się pan jak basza zabawić kuleczkami z chleba, przecieraniem binokli, ze dwa lata to uprawiałem, tu mnie głowę suszą sprawami rodzinnymi, biurowymi, polityką, a ja sobie binokle… otóż, mówię, co to ja chciałem, acha, pan nie ma pojęcia jak się od takich drobnostek ogromnieje, wprost nie do wiary, człowiek się rozrasta, swędzi pana pięta to jakby gdzieś daleko na Wołyniu, na kresach, zresztą ze swędzenia pięty też można mieć trochę satysfakcji, wszystko zależy od
podejścia, ujęcia intencji, panie, jeśli odcisk może boleć, to dlaczegożby nie miał i rozkoszy przysporzyć? A wsadzenie języka w zakamarki zębów? Co chciałem powiedzieć? Epikureizm, czyli rozkosznisium, może być dwojakie, bo primum dzik, bawół, lew, secundum pchełka, muszka, ergo w skali wielkiej i w skali małej, ale, jeśli w małej, to
potrzebna jest zdolność mikroskopowania, dozyfikowania i właściwego podzielenia, lub rozczłonkowania, bo jedzenie karmelka możesz pan rozłożyć na etapy primum wąchanie secundum lizanie, tertium wsadzanie, quartum zabawki z językiem, ze ślinką, quintum wyplucie na rękę, przypatrzenie się, sextum rozpęknięcie za pomocą zęba, że poprzestanę na tych kilku etapach, ale, jak pan widzi, można już sobie jako tako poradzić
i bez dancingów, szampana, kolacyjek, kawioru, dekoltów, frufru, pończoszek, majteczek, biustów, wyprężeń, skotek hi, hi, hi, ojej, co pan, jak pan śmie, hihihi, hahaha, ;hochoch, yych, yych, z karczkiem. Ja przy kolacji sobie siedzę, z rodziną gawędzę, z lokatorami, a przecie i tak trochę paryskiego szantanu sobie po cichu wyskrobię. I niech mnie przyłapią! Tle, he, he, nie przyłapią! Cała rzecz polega na pewnego rodzaju wewnętrznym
wymoszczeniu się rozkosznisiowym i przyjemnościowym z wachlarzami, z pióropuszami, w rodzaju Sułtana Selima Wspaniałego. Ważne są wystrzały artylerii. Oraz bicie w dzwony.
Wstał, ukłonił się, zaśpiewał:
Gdy się nie ma, co się lubi
To się lubi, co się ma!”
“I wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and put him in my pocket for safekeeping.”
“I hold his gaze until the chaos outside breaks my concentration. Outside, where everything is falling, landing and breaking at once. Sometimes you catch something specific like the screams and cries of people trying to hold on to each other before they're swallowed into other, bigger noises. This is what it sounds like when the world ends.”
“My mother always said that if you do the right thing, the universe comes to your aid,”
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