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, August 19, 2013
SOMETIMES I AM STILL TEMPTED
Question Of The Week 8/19/13
Our granddaughter Hope in the cherry tree.
Do you remember the last time you climbed a tree? When and where were you?