life isn’t fair is just fairer than death
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain’s to die.
How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
I am going to die alone and I am going to marry Christmas.
Vous m’avez dit “Je t’aime.” Je vous ai it “Attendez.” J’ai Presque dit “Oui.” Vous avez dit “Partez.
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.