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
Monday, February 19, 2007
DRINK CUPS FOR THREE
Chelle called me laughing. Hope came running in the kitchen demanding three big cups immediately. Chelle ask why Hope needed these cups. Hope said, "The Pretends are here and they have a big thirst and need drinks right away!"