Shes perfect

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The raven himself is hoarse  That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan  Under my battlements. Come, you spirits  That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood,  Stop up th’access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature you murd’ring ministers You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night,     And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,  That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Frases Tumblr, Charles Bukowski, Bukowski, E Card, Lyric Quotes, Poetry Quotes, Rumi, Pretty Words, The Words

The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood, Stop up th’access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature you murd’ring ministers You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it…

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