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
tis the season
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Ron hollered for us to look out the window. This is what we saw. What a beautiful rainbow! Mike was a hard worker again today. Even tired, he wanted to go in search of the pot of gold.