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
tis the season
Thursday, October 02, 2008
We headed for Texas and I was stressed about the stock market. We ate the first evening in a Chinese restaurant. My fortune cookie said (And I kid you not): "Don't worry about the stock market. Invest in family."