Monday, April 23, 2007

The Bard's birthday

It's William Shakespeare's birthday. Also his death day. And so I bring you this marvelous and famous passage from The Tempest:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Remember this when the horror of the world just seems too much.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous11:15 AM

    This is a great reminder for the horrors of life. It is also great for impermanance and no self. Thank you. Marilyn


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