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
This morning when I woke up. Another day to do what I want.
ReplyDeleteHave a fabulous day. ♥
Every day when I think how I live in Canada and not the USA. Why? Isn't it obvious?
ReplyDeleteOh you are so funny, but it's true.
DeleteI don't feel lucky, I feel blessed, and every day.
ReplyDeleteThe question in about luck and I will say I was very lucking the winter of 1996.
ReplyDelete