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 am speechless! Cool!
ReplyDeleteIt was a beautiful tree until those doodads were hung from the branches. One step too far!
ReplyDeletewow
ReplyDeleteLook he really into it.
ReplyDeleteWow, what a skill!
ReplyDelete