Sometimes It Feels Like That
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.
— Macbeth,
Act V, Scene v
*… And maybe don’t go around murdering everyone. You’ll feel better.






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