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
Friday, September 22, 2006
MANY WORD-OF-THE-DAYS
Notorious Harold was upbraided as a poltroon after the rechauffe of the visceral, though endemic, incident.
He had feigned camaraderie in order to bilk these normally insuperable shipmates.
The men found delectation in Harold’s comeuppance.
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