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
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Dear Siblings, Janet sent me these pictures of our house being moved. It is difficult to look at it with the bracing and lifts under it. It is fun to wander around it in my mind and recall so many fond memories. How did they ever allow this house to be destroyed? So sad.