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,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Slim and Franke
Thursday, March 30, 2006
"A lot of people are writing, asking me to go hunting and stuff," he said with a laugh. " It's kind of amazing, that they want to see me that bad." Don't fail to readthis story today.