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
Happy New Year
Monday, March 27, 2006
Child Labor?
The boys help Grandpa Ron get commodities ready for sale.
wow look at all that land back there and that farmy... tool.... thing......(there are some farms left on Long island but everyone seems to be selling all the land!) there is a bunch on the north fork
wow look at all that land back there and that farmy... tool.... thing......(there are some farms left on Long island but everyone seems to be selling all the land!) there is a bunch on the north fork
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