Moments in Between { 16 images } Created 17 Nov 2013

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself—
Yea, all which it inherit—shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Sir, I am vexed.
Bear with my weakness.
My old brain is troubled.
Be not disturbed with my infirmity.
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose.
A turn or two I’ll walk
To still my beating mind.

William Shakespeare, Macbeth.
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