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
Sunday, November 07, 2010
IT'S ALWAYS TOP SECRET
Today is a special occasion but we're not supposed to talk about it or make a big deal. A minor hint might be that it is a birthday of a man I love very, very much:) But you did not hear it here.