There would have been a time for such a word.
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.
---------------------------------------------------
There would have been a better time for hearing this.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Acting slowly in this unimportant place every day,
To the last segment of this memorable period of time.
And all our past times have become brighter
The way to die for foolish people. Out, out, abrupt light!
Life's only an action of following bad influences,
And walking and worrying about what everyone else thinks,
Even though nobody ever brings it up again. It is a story
That idiots tell, full of lies and jealousy,
That means nothing.
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