Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.

You kiss by the book.

In every rain a little life must fall.

Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp,To guard a title that was rich before,To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,To throw a perfume on the violet,To smooth the ice, or add another hueUnto the rainbow, or with taper lightTo seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Within the book and volume of my brain.