jueves, 15 de enero de 2009


Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

3 comentarios:

5inister dijo...

Y yo por eso no me esfuerzo en la vida, igual algún día todo se va a acabar y ya no va a tener importancia.

Andrés dijo...

con este frio y con mi hermano borracho no puedo dormir, que me queda entonces?

the lines on my face dijo...

ando medio zombie, así que no comento mucho más...

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