“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.”

“Out! out! damned spot ..All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweaten this little hand”

“Out, damned spot! out, I say!—One, two; why, then ‘tis time to do’t.—Hell is murky!—Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him? The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?—What, will these hands ne’er be clean?—No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that: you mar all with this starting. Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!”

“The sugar was back in Lila Ann Price's voice, but it sounded a little bit like artificial sweetener.”

“In my lap I had my dear little pug, the smell of whose ears will always be sweeter to me than all the perfumes of Araby and the scent of heliotrope combined.”

“suffering sweetens the reward”