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"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 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, William Shakespeare) The fat chick believes that recognizing your own insignificance will set you free. : Photo of the Week : Cat's House of Fun : Catay.com
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Date: 3/22/2015
It's Shakespearean, dammit
Week #679 -- "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 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, William Shakespeare) The fat chick believes that recognizing your own insignificance will set you free.

 


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