12th May 2017 — Jessie
Pulling apart tomorrow
She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
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! Metaphor, comparing life to a candle flame, emphasizing it’s:
Life’s but a walking shadow Personification, saying that the shadow is ‘walking’ around, , 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.
