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, May 07, 2012
Question Of The Week
What is your ethnic background?
(Where is your mom's family from/your dad's family from? If you don't know for sure, what would be your best guess or what would you like to imagine?)