Reading Shakespeare is like throwing a bunch of finely-aged ideas and deliciously nuanced poetic verses into a pot, mixing it together, plating it, and then dropping the whole thing onto a floor littered with nasty bits of Old English.
"I don't usually say this, because people usually know when they're not good guys."
She spits out more than mere saliva as her companions hold her back. Her face burns with more than simple blood as her skin reddens and bleeds controllably.
But she wants more. She always wants more.
He doesn't spend everything he has, because he's afraid of being caught with nothing to spend. He wants to find the best possible scenario to roar - he won't find it, because it only exists in his imagination. So he'll never roar as loud as he could, because he's always dreaming of the next best time and place to roar.
This one's for those who are sick of being fed the same old adages they've always been fed.
Something about the atmosphere tells her that this won't end prettily.
Take one step, and it'll already be different.