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 and Franke
Monday, December 10, 2012
Question Of The Week 12-10-12
My husband's pet peeve is probably that I am always in such a rush. Slow motion is my pet peeve. When I'm ready to go I want everyone ready to go.