I’m struggling with the last chapter or so and needed a reminder of how magical words can be in the right hands. Hope it inspires you, too.
There would have been a time for such a word
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
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.
— Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act V, Scene V
I wonder how much Will revised? And would he have minded us calling him Will?
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