O great corrector of enormous times,

Shaker of o'er-rank states, thou grand decider

Of dusty and old titles, that healest with blood

The earth when it is sick, and curest the world

O' the pleurisy of people!

Beaumont And Fletcher: The Two Noble Kinsmen. Act v. Sc. 1.

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.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act v. Sc. 5.