(from Macbeth, spoken by Macbeth)
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
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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, I like this lines more
Love poetry ❤️ And then is heard no more.it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing
And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
Immortal words! Life may be a walking shadow but his words live on!
Superb imagery and terrific prose.