TOMORROW TOMORROW & TOMORROW

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 playerThat struts and frets his hour upon the stageAnd then is heard no more:
it is a taleTold by an idiot,
full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing

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