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.
-William Shakespeare (McBeth, Act V Scene V)
Rather than focusing on any particular hobby, pastime, or passion the purpose of this blog shall be merely to share a small slice of my admittedly banal existence, my hour upon the stage. As the idiot telling this tale I can tell you that it is unlikely to be full of sound and fury but it most certainly will signify nothing.
This is the best blog ever!!
ReplyDeleteI love it!
"As the idiot telling this tale I can tell you that it is unlikely to be full of sound and fury but it most certainly will signify nothing"
I wish you would freaking write a book already, you have the skills and would make uber phat money l3wt!
Despair thy charm,
ReplyDeleteAnd let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripped.