In reaction to the financial news coming at us from all sides, this poem by William Shakespeare, as spoken by Prospero.
The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd 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.
1 comment:
I first found your blog because I did a Google image search for "homeless seattle". I used a photo from your blog (properly labeled) for my post.
Then I found this post about the Tempest. It's perfect. I'm now officially swept off my feet by your blog. I'm going to swipe this post and pic, (with lots of prominent attribution and link, of course) because I want more people to see it.
-- Betsy
http://www.bendingtreearts.com/blog
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