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, October 02, 2005
EXPECTETH NOTHING
I just talked to my mother to say "Happy Sunday". She was asking about our upcoming ship reunion and I told her I was trying not to get too excited. I said I made such plans for how special the last one would be, and then was very disappointed about how awful it was. Mother reminded me of what dad alway said: "Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, .....for he shall not be disappointed."
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