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. (Shakespeare, Macbeth, 5.5.24-28)
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. (Shakespeare, Macbeth, 5.5.24-28)
John Donne (1572–1631) Meditation XVII from "Devotions upon Emergent Occasions."
John Donne (1572–1631) Meditation XVII from "Devotions upon Emergent Occasions."
For the life of me, I cannot remember
What made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise
For the life of me, I cannot believe
We'd ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen
For the life of me, I cannot remember
What made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise
For the life of me, I cannot believe
We'd ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen