la dixième muse

“I can picture a place where everybody feels it too It might be fiction but I see it ahead

Natürlich hab ich leider recht, die Welt ist arm, der Mensch ist schlecht. Wir wären gut - anstatt so roh, doch die Verhältnisse, sie sind nicht so.

Forget about our mothers and our friends, We're fated to pretend.

There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

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.