(November 14, 2014 at 12:44 pm)downbeatplumb Wrote:(November 14, 2014 at 12:22 pm)Alex K Wrote: I don't know your wife, but it could be fear.
That hadn't even occurred to me!
She is a delicate flower, unlike the predatory women who seem to prowl the pubs round this way.
It was never thus when I was single. (sigh).
The grass always looks greener on the other side. Weither it is of not is another matter.
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.
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.
