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
Monday, March 09, 2009
My siblings in serious discussion, "What are we going to do about our baby sister Ann?"
Hope very much at ease.
Beth, the dramatic tree hugger.
The O's, Olive and Owen in serious discussion, "What are we going to do about Aunt Ann?"
Just a quick entry with some pictures I wanted to share.