timshen
Group: Members
Posts: 684
Joined: Mar. 2001 |
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Posted: Oct. 30 2005, 08:49 |
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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.
Shakespeare, Macbeth V., v., 17
-------------- Expect Great Things. Attempt Great Things.
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