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Quote by William Shakespeare

Work

Aphorisms from Shakespeare; arranged according to the plays,&c. With a preface and notes, etc. [By C. Lofft.]

Aphorisms from Shakespeare is a compilation of concise sayings and insights drawn from the works of William Shakespeare. The book is arranged thematically according to the individual plays, offering readers a unique perspective on Shakespeare's characters and themes. Accompanying the aphorisms are a preface and supplementary notes, providing context and analysis. The compiler of these aphorisms is identified as C. Lofft. more

Author

William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare (1564 - April 23, 1616) was one of the greatest poets of the English Renaissance, renowned for his dramatic works. His plays spanned a variety of genres, including tragedy, comedy, and history, and have had a profound impact on literature worldwide. more

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“There's something in us that is very much attracted to madness. Everyone who looks off the edge of a tall building has felt at least a faint, morbid urge to jump. And anyone who has ever put a loaded pistol up to his head... All right, my point is this: even the most well-adjusted person is holding onto his or her sanity by a greased rope. I really believe that. The rationality circuits are shoddily built into the human animal.”

“For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and bleed. On those gray [sic] days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks - accidentally - and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you're alive.”

“One night she hid the pink cotton scarf from her raincoat in the pillowcase when the nurse came around to lock up her drawers and closets for the night. In the dark she had made a loop and tried to pull it tight around her throat. But always just as the air stopped coming and she felt the rushing grow louder in her ears, her hands would slacken and let go, and she would lie there panting for breath, cursing the dumb instinct in her body that fought to go on living”

“You wake up and you feel - what? Heaviness, an ache inside, a weight, yes. A soft crumpling of the flesh. A feeling like all the surfaces inside you have been rubbed raw. A voice in your head - no, not voices, not like hearing voices, nothing that crazy, just your own inner voice, the one that says 'Turn left at the corner' or 'Don't forget to stop at the post office,' only now it's saying, 'I hate myself.' It's saying, 'I want to die.'”