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,
This is our life.
maybe i am a belief in nothing whos to know, maybe infinite knowledge is nothing, maybe everything is nothing, how can something be justified as something?maybe nothing exists and this is a dream, an instant that seems to span eternity but is only an illusion?