You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
read more
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?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep read more
So many ghosts, and forms of fright,
Have started from their graves to-night,
They have driven sleep from mine eyes away;
I will go down to the chapel and pray.
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,
That walks at read more
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,
That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand
O'er some new-open'd grave; and, (strange to tell!)
Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense, and as they please
read more
All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense, and as they please
They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size,
Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us!
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
Whence and what are thou, execrable shape?
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A read more
My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A noise of falling weights that never fell,
Weird whispers, bells that rang without a hand,
Door-handles turn'd when none was at the door,
And bolted doors that open'd of themselves;
And one betwixt the dark and light had seen
Her, bending by the cradle of her babe.