(Source: travels-, via onlyanarchistsareprettyy)
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, Macbeth, Act V, Scene 5
(via dolanposts)
(Source: onces)
(Source: p-i-s-s-i-n-g, via naked-fame)
(Source: liquorstoretreasuremap, via knotty-boy)
(Source: jabrilliam)
