And tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace to the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death
Out, out, brief candle
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more
It is a tale, told by an idiot
Full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing
William Shakespeare - soliloquy from Macbeth
Which pieces of art do you carry embedded in your heart?
Creeps in this petty pace to the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death
Out, out, brief candle
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more
It is a tale, told by an idiot
Full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing
William Shakespeare - soliloquy from Macbeth
Which pieces of art do you carry embedded in your heart?
