I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
We must follow, not force Providence.
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
All of Creationโs a farce. Man was born as a joke. In his head his reason is buffeted Like wind-blown smoke. Life is a game. Everyone ridicules everyone else. But he who has the last laugh Laughs longest.