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 day to dusty death.  Out, out, brief candle!  Life's but a walking
shadow, a poor player that stuts 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's 'Macbeth'