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, April 07, 2014
A GENTLE BREEZE
Question Of The Week 4-7-14
Ice cream cones, a puppy dog kiss, a tender touch we seem to miss, a gentle breeze that calls our name, a walk in moments memories frame.