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.

From “Macbeth” by William Shakespeare

“Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow” as viewed by the father of the English language—William Shakespeare. What kind of world would we have had without Shakespeare, Cervantes, Victor Hugo, and other monsters of the literature? A completely different world—less benign, less livable, less indulgent. Shakespeare’s verses blossom awash with beauty and dazzling metaphors: “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player … a tale told by an idiot.” Life is brief, but the creators of literature and other arts make it worth living. Creation has to do with love and love with creation. A world without love would just be a sad mass of stars and planets.