“Slipping in blood, by his own hand, through pride,Hamlet, Othello, Coriolanus fall.Upon his bed, however, Shakespeare die,Having endured them all.”

“Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice.”

“When all was said, his fate, however ugly it might prove to be, was in his own hands; he was its master.”

“Mawu felt her face where the still-fresh scar had just been opened up again. She examined the blood on her fingers as if it weren’t her own. Sir returned to the table and a servant slipped through the side door and passed him a wet cloth to wipe the blood from his hands.”

“And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking into these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!”

“Scholars don't have blood flowing in their veins," said Hamlet. "When they're wounded, they bleed logic, and when all of it is gone, their brains die, and they become ... soldiers.”