M A S T profile picture

M A S T

About Me

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.---------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------