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
I just now read and enjoyed your story on Elderstory. May I invite you to visit Red Writer at www.xmarxthe.blogspot.com> That's where I post stories by writers. -- Robert Lamb
I just now read and enjoyed your story on Elderstory. May I invite you to visit Red Writer at www.xmarxthe.blogspot.com> That's where I post stories by writers. -- Robert Lamb
ReplyDeleteVery nicely put!
ReplyDeletewhew!! fianlly found you again. I have lost all my bookmarks. Now to see if I can find Joy of SIx...
ReplyDeleteI commented before, but I don't think it took. If this is a repeat, then oops! :-)
ReplyDeleteYour comments on my blog seriously crack me up! I laughed out loud to see what you had written to me today!
Thank you! :-)
Couldn't have put it better myself!
ReplyDelete