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Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall. Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Fair is foul and Foul is Fair, Hover through the for and filthy air. The devil himself would not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of the 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 heared no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. - Will Spakespeare |
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| Источник: Holy Hell! | URL |