“My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.”

“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,Yet Grace must still look so.”

“The universal pervasion of ugliness, hideous landscapes, vile noises, foul language...everything. Unnatural, broken, blasted; the distortion of the dead, whose unburiable bodies sit outside the dug outs all day, all night, the most execrable sights on earth. In poetry we call them the most glorious.”

“Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.”

“O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head,Which have no correspondence with true sight!...Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,That censures falsely what they see aright?If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,What means the world to say it is not so?If it be not, then love doth well denoteLove's eye is not so true as all men's 'No.'How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true,That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? No marvel then, though I mistake my view;The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. - Shakespeare's Sonnet 148”

“And Caesar's spirit, raging for revenge,With Ate by his side come hot from hell,Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war,That this foul deed shall smell above the earthWith carrion men, groaning for burial.”