#shakespear quote

[demosthenes-wiggin]

Taste of Fears

"I'd almost forgotten the taste of fears,"          -Macbeth

This quote, I think, teaches a very valuable lesson. That you shouldn’t be prideful and think that nothing can scare you.

[batwynn]

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.

[therealsamsepticeye-movedlo-blog]

- MACBETH

[eduranwrites-blog]

By any other name

She loved me.

I didn't do anything to deserve it. I couldn't comprehend why. But she did.

“Are you here?” She asked.

I wanted to move. To answer. For her. to make her proud.

I strained against the weight on my body, I wanted to please her so desperately.

But I remained unmoving. I was so ashamed.

She looked at me, and there was only love in her eyes, no anger, no disappointment.

She fed me, took care of me, her patience never faltering.

I was ashamed again. For not being able to take care of myself, for relying on her so much.

But her eyes smiled when she looked at me.

Every day she came and talked to me. She didn't know I could hear her, and yet she never stopped.

And I could. How her gentle words surrounded me, cradled me, warmed my whole being.

I pushed myself every day, for her. I couldn't bear to disappoint her.

When I finally moved, she wasn't there. But the next day she came to visit me again, and she saw my progress.

“I'm so proud of you!” She said.

I couldn't respond, but I blushed inwardly. She was so beautiful. And had eyes only for me.

Small. Weak. Pitiful me.

I kept pushing my boundaries. Her cries of wonder at every progress I made fuelled me. I wanted to surprise her, amaze her. To be better.

One day, she didn't come.

I didn't think much of it at first. Another day passed. And another.

I tried to move, I tried to feed myself. I couldn't need her so much, it wasn't fair.

But I was still too weak, and I could feel my body suffer at the missing care.

Four days later she came back. Her features were tired, her face was flushed.

She looked at me with panic.

“I'm so sorry, I couldn't come sooner.” She apologized.

And I knew I had no right to be mad.

She took care of me, repaired the damage her absence had caused. She didn't talk to me much that day, and when she left I felt empty.

Maybe she was getting tired of me. Maybe she was realizing that I wasn't enough.

I wasn't good enough.

I didn't deserve her love. But I still couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

She didn't come back the next day. And I knew. I knew I had to do something.

She loved me, why did she? How could I make her love me again?

I moved, I pushed, I didn't care how weak I was, if I was to see love in her eyes again, I had to change.

When she came back, I was waiting for her.

Blushing and exhausted from my efforts, I was facing her, offering all I had.

She smiled, she laughed.

Bending down, she brushed me.

“You're so beautiful.” She whispered.

My life felt complete in that moment. I had done it, she was proud of me.

I became what she saw in me from the first day.

She knelled down and brought a blade to my body.

The pain was unbearable. I wanted to scream, to ask why.

But I remained silent as she picked up my dying form.

She left, but this time she brought me home with her.

And as I laid there on her windowsill, I thought about my life.

The life she had given me. The life she had taken from me.

She took care of me, slowing down my end.

And as she did she smiled.

I brought a smile to the face of my love.

The thought kept me going long after my body withered.

[occhipintiandrea]

We are such stuff as dreams are made on.

Siamo fatti della stessa sostanza dei sogni. -William Shakespeare

[darthruinx42]

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

― William Shakespeare

[deathpoll]