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,
Don't know why this came back to me tonight but it did. I memorized these lines back in high school! LOL Amazing how some things stay with us. I see these words differently now, though, than I did back then. They're not sad or tragic to me, but rather remind me that I am a spiritual being living a human experience -- that this world of form we live in is a play in which we act out roles, our Ego driving us to and fro. If we remain unaware of our egoic self, then the world could seem as 'life signifying nothing' but when we begin to awaken, we see the purpose in this journey.