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
Monday, November 19, 2012
CHAOS AND HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Question Of The Week 11-19-12
The open book of our lives.
If your life was a novel, what would be the title and how would your story end?