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,
Signifying nothing.
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
I've had the Folsom Prism Blues one up on my wall here for years. Thinking about having it put on a coffee mug. I don't even do diddly-squats I'm so lazy.
They were all funny - but I love the last one - I do diddly-squats too!
ReplyDeleteAn inbred dog and Folsom Prism Blues, LOL!
ReplyDeleteHeeheehee! Diddly squats are about my speed.
ReplyDeleteI've had the Folsom Prism Blues one up on my wall here for years. Thinking about having it put on a coffee mug. I don't even do diddly-squats I'm so lazy.
ReplyDelete