Second Quote

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…”

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 a stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Shakespeare

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