Interior Monologue on Lady Macbeth First came the pride, an overpowering sense of achievement, an accomplishment due(p) to great ambition, only wanton and enduringly surged a creation of guilt and confusion, the conscience which I once thought diminished, began to grow, concisely defeating the title and its rewards. Slowly the unforgotten memories from that common night overcame me and I succumbed to the unceasing and horrific images, the bloody dagger, a heartless corpse. I wash, I scrub, I tear at the flesh on my hands, exhausting desperately to cleanse myself of the blood. but the filthy witness remains, stained, neer to be removed.
I work up there are deuce kinds of people in demeanor; the kind that let things perish and the kind that make things happen. I prefer to think of myself as a person who writes her present not awaits it. So I ask myself, is it such(prenominal) a plague to want the best for you and your part half? Was it such a terrible deed, to lust later power and condition alike a young miss aft...If you want to kick the put a full essay, roll it on our website:
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