One little green speckled blog

A Philosophical Question

I heard Silas in the next room muttering to himself about something. "Tomorrow... tomorrow," I heard him say. Then he turned to me and asked, "How many tomorrows are there?"

—julie Sat May 13 13:50:08 2006


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. Macbeth, scene v

Mary Thu May 3 20:53:58 2007