To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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.
-William Shakespeare, MacBeth
2 comments:
Not a very encouraging view of life, but it's the only bit of Shakespeare that really sticks in my mind...I had to memorize a handful of speeches in high school (Friends, Romans, Countrymen; To be, or not to be?), and this is the one I remember, possibly because Peter Schickele (PDQ Bach) sings an almost word for word rendition on an old American Radio Company tape.
These lines dovetail nicely with the poem in chapter one of Ecclesiastes. They also remind me of the quote I posted a week and a half ago from The Two Towers. What sort of a story have we fallen into? An epic adventure? A tale told by an idiot, full of sounding fury, signifying nothing? Is it comedy, tragedy, or fairy tale? And who is the author?
I like the way you ask your question: "what sort of story have _we_ fallen into?" instead of "what sort of story have I fallen into?" I tend to ask the question the wrong way these days.
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