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.
William Shakespeare
-讲述对生命的无奈