‘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 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.’ ~Macbeth

Comparing the unit of time to a unit of language, a syllable, indicates that Shakespeare is developing an idea that our lives are scripted.

Respond now!

About Meg

My naym is Meg, and wen it's brekfast, or wen dinner, is quite conekted, and wen de plate, sit upon thy leg, I use my fork, I eat de egg.