"Double, double, toil and trouble; fire, burn; and caldron, bubble."
"Out, damned spot! out, I say!"
"But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we'll not fail."
"Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done."
"And oftentimes to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths; win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence."
"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day."
"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes . . ."
"There would have been a time for such a word. 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."
"Out, damned spot! out, I say!"
"But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we'll not fail."
"Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done."
"And oftentimes to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths; win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence."
"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day."
"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes . . ."
"There would have been a time for such a word. 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."
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
No problem. We'll figure it out tomorrow. And no, I never met him personally. Nor do I care to.