you ain't never ever on the guest list
This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is 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.

sharpayevons:

"At least you love me." I say to my pet as I hold them against my chest as they try to get away

RF