First, we played around in our front yard.
There's a labyrinth, with a small worship house in the center. The panels within the worship house give you an idea of the Harmonists idealist theology.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment