Today Lunch Menue
4. Carrot sticks
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.