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 way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle,
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor plater
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.
Ross died yesterday. His ashes are going to be scattered across the Sea of Japan, his favorite place to be.
He didn't even tell me he was dying
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 plater
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.
Ross died yesterday. His ashes are going to be scattered across the Sea of Japan, his favorite place to be.