If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul. - William Shakespeare

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!

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility; but when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage.

Et tu, Brute?