Tmrw

Tmrw

Tmrw

Creeps in this petty place,

Day to day to the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterday's have lighted fools the way to dusk 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.

- Macbeth

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lensblr-network:

Vic #2
06.23.2014
by goingpostle.tumblr.com
nonelikerae:

I am in love with this
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bombshellssonly:

Jen
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