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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's comments on religion:
"In religion, what damned error but some sober brow will bless it, and approve it with a text, hiding the grossness with fair ornament?" - The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 2
"Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces." - ibid, Act 2, Scene 5
"Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian. . . ." - Twelfth Night, Act 1, Scene 3
"It is an heretic that makes the fire, not she which burns in it." - The Winter's Tale, Act 2, Scene 3
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