~~l!fe br!ef candle~~by william shakespeare

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.