CLEAVAGE (136)
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Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you are all spirits and are melded into air, into thin air.
And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp'd towers, the golden 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. William Shakespeare From The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1 |
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CLEAVAGE (136)
