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| "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, <br/>Creeps in this petty pace from day to day<br/>To the last syllable of recorded time, <br/>And all our yesterdays have lighted fools<br/>The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!<br/>Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player<br/>That struts and frets his hour upon the stage<br/>And then is heard no more: it is a tale<br/>Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,<br/>Signifying nothing." <br/>-William Shakespeare | |||
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