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. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Quiet Sunday
Ron and hired worker are in the field tilling and turning and digging. I'm in the house working on eBay. Sirrius is on Bluegrass channel. I turned the volume up all the way for Man of Constant Sorrow. Tomorrow we head for Tulsa because, yes, the lien release on the Dodge finally arrived. We hope to have lunch with mother and maybe Tandy will be able to join us.
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