I don't know what to put
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Here is how it goes,
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 20
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,
This is one of Macbeth's most famous soliloquies. Basically Macbeth has grown weary of life. He speaks of "To-morrow, and to-morrow" repeating the same tired old themes that have plagued man-kind. He claims that we whine and complain about insignificant events and problems that befall us. In the end, in the scheme of history, our lives are merely a speck and mean nothing. We have our metaphoric hour on stage and are never heard from again. It's pretty depressing but he has a point!