“We strut and fret our hour upon the stage and then are no more.”

“Tomorrow and tomorrow come creeping in and always will. We're fools trapped in a mechanism of our own unconscious making. Shadows strutting and fretting for one brief hour upon a stage, then heard no more. I'll weep an ocean in my heart, if the world would give me time. But not now.”

“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 foolsThe 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 taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.”

“The world is a stage we walk upon. We are all in a way fictional characters who write ourselves with our beliefs.”

“The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.”

“We are but older children, dear,Who fret to find our bedtime near.”