Creeps within 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.
I have so much writing to do which I usually love. For some reason today, I cannot focus at all! It is infuriating. There is a blizzard going on outside and all I want to do is go outside and build an igloo or snowman. So naturally, I am on tumblr instead. Le sigh. I wish the paper I have to do was a free writing exercise because I have so many ideas bouncing around waiting to be written, but I have to write a critique of a literary critique. Underwhelming to say the least. I swear when I am a high school English teacher I will NEVER make my students do this.