Mind Your Speech A Little Lest You

Adversity's Sweet Milk, Philosophy.

In Maiden Meditation, Fancy Free.

But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

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.

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!