Shakespeare or Batman?

Random Miscellaneous or Shakespeare Quiz

Can you name the source, Shakespeare or Batman, who is quoted below?

Featured May 13, 2011

How to Play
Also try: Drug or Pokémon?
Score 0/30 Timer 06:00
Quote(S)hakespeare or (B)atman
...how many hours bring about the day, how many days will finish up the year, how many years a mortal man may live.
I can live no longer by thinking.
That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow.
They have tied me to a stake—I cannot fly. But, bear-like, I must fight the course.
Grief forgives what can never be forgiven.
Weep I cannot. But my heart bleeds.
Smoldering, I burn you—burning you, I flare, hot and bright and fierce and beautiful.
As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored, I can be destroyed.
I will grind your bones to dust. And with your blood and it I’ll make a paste.
The weight of this sad time we must obey.
Welcome destruction, blood, and massacre. I see, as in a map, the end of all.
I will break and twist things within you. You can't conceive of the pain I can cause.
You cannot stop me, not with wine or vows or the weight of age. You cannot stop me, but still you try.
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.
I am a feather for each wind that blows.
Quote(S)hakespeare or (B)atman
Sometimes it's only madness that makes us what we are.
Your feast is nearly over. From this moment on, none of you are safe.
And as the sun, that had been too afraid to show its face in this city, started to turn the black into grey, I smiled.
We both stared into the abyss, but when it looked back at us, you blinked.
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand. Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me, set the dogs on me.
We die every day...a thousand times an hour.
I will not become an executioner.
He is come to open the purple testament of bleeding war.
I will encounter darkness as a bride, and hug it in my arms.
Did I finally reach the limits of reason? And find the Devil waiting?
...and darkness be the burier of the dead.
As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods—they kill us for their sport.
I'm a man of thirty—of twenty again. The rain on my chest is a baptism. I'm born again.
Then all you've waited for is a puppet. A soulless little doll.

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