Macbeth by bernadette
March 7, 2009, 12:00 am
Filed under: literature

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.

Act V, Scene Five, 19-28


1 Comment so far
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the best soliloquy ever.

Comment by bwordsworth

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