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 in pillows
Monday, October 01, 2007
ONE SO FAR
Beulah Dean has hatched one of her fifteen eggs. It is solid black so it is either Australorp or Black Sex-Link. Oh, I hope she hatches more than the one.