“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.”
~ William Shakespeare
Originally uploaded by M’sheArt2.
“The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
But for me the spring is done.
Beneath the apple blossoms
I go a wintry way,
For love that smiled in April
Is false to me in May.”
– Sara Teasdale, May
“The fog was where I wanted to be. Halfway down the path you can’t see this house.
You’d never know it was here.
Or any of the other places down the avenue.
I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t
meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal.
Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself.
Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land.
The fog and the sea seemed part of each other.
It was like walking on the bottom of the sea.
As if I had drowned long ago.
As if I was the ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea.
It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost.”
― Eugene O’Neill