My grave has been dug.
And my tombstone's ready.
valentine's day To-morrow,and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creep in this petty pace day to day
To the last syllable of recoded 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.
Please bring me flowers?
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