"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."
--From Macbeth (V, v, 19)
"Et tu, Brute?"
--From Julius Caesar (III, i, 77)
Dear sisters and brother,
"we will pull through this together, Inshallah."
