terça-feira, dezembro 23, 2008

A walking shadow





Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of record 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


pindaro

Sem comentários: