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, April 12, 2010
NOW AND THEN
My son's three prize children certainly clean up nicely but they still act like the monkeys in the first picture (along with their father). I found that early photo on grandson Dillon's facebook and had to borrow it.