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
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
OLDIES BUT GOODIES
Who could forget that July, 1999? !!!
PICTURES POSTED AND SHOWED UP FOR ABOUT FIVE SECONDS, THEN WOULD NOT OPEN AGAIN.
They don't show for me.
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