| Macbeth:
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. |
Lines by Omar Khayyam via Edward Fitzgerald
ReplyDelete'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
To save me messing around twice with the comment thingie - I like the poem above this one (All Lost Souls) - it's a far more literary version of Andy Warhol and his "15 mins." quote, same message more elegantly put. :-)
in Joni Mitchell's song, Talk To Me, she admits to stealing a line from "Willie The Shake" and I stole it from her.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you talk, lady! It makes me sound so good.
ReplyDelete