Is this a dagger, which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me

clutch thee: -

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling, as to sight? Or art thou but

A dagger of the mind, a false creation,

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act II, scene i


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