M.

“By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.”
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

“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 fools
The 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 tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.”
― Anne Frank

“You speak an infinite deal of nothing.”
― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice