Life ... is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.
If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
It is the superfluous things for which men sweat.
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be: am an attendant lord, one that will do to swell a progress, start a scene or two, advise the prince.
A constant smirk upon the face, and a whiffing activity of the body, are strong indications of futility.
...we took the 10 machines we agreed were the most beguiling, and we put them on permanent exhibit in the foyer of this library underneath a sign whose words can surely be applied to this whole ruined planet nowadays: THE COMPLICATED FUTILITY OF IGNORANCE
He is useless on top of the ground; he ought to be under it, inspiring the cabbages.
If there really had been a Mercutio, and if there really were a Paradise, Mercutio might be hanging out with teenage Vietnam draftee casualties now, talking about what it felt like to die for other people's vanity and foolishness.
Life is indeed darkness save when there is urge, and all urge is blind save when there is knowledge, and all knowledge is vain save when there is work, and all work is empty save when there is love.
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