To-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. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 1928
how uh how did u teach her that
DoM1nIqU3 2 years ago
I used the text as a bookmark and every night when we read a book, i read this too her for a few days and then she remembers it
tfirma 2 years ago