Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day to 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.
Act V, Tragedy of MacBeth
by W Shakespeare
Thank you to Aldo for sharing this with me many moons ago.... I kept it.
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