By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes Originally posted 2011-08-05 18:11:05. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreTo-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. Originally posted 2011-07-18 20:33:59. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreBetween the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow Originally posted 2011-08-31 22:59:10. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
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