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
Looks friendly.
ReplyDeleteI love that you continue to draw.
ReplyDeleteI always gravitate toward art that is all about faces.
ReplyDeleteHe looks like someone you could sit down next to and chat for a few hours.
ReplyDeleteHe looks like someone who has stories to tell.
ReplyDelete