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,
I’ve also wondered whether the Tomorrow and Tomorrow speech is Macbeth’s point of recognition, his awareness of himself, his flaw and his mistakes, his wisdom achieved through his suffering? Or is it this one, two scenes earlier?--in which the term “mouth-honor” gives me chills, though not on behalf of Macbeth, who doesn’t deserve even the hollow echo of mouth-honor.
I have lived long enough. My way of life
How many people do you know who would settle for mouth-honor, or who wouldn't know the difference between that and more meaningful honors bestowed by peers or superiors, from their hearts and minds?
Do Little Leaguers who get a trophy just for showing up know, at some level, that that's insulting, patronizing mouth-honor?
Methinks we got some honor-inflation goin' on the last two or three decades.