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Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 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.
—
Tommorow, Tommorow, Tommorow
(book)
by William Shakespeare
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| Language: | English |
| Submitted by: | kcanz |
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