14 days ago
Family Reynolds
SIR WALTER RALEGH
All the World's a Stage
What is our life? A play of passion,
Our mirth the music of division.
Our mothers wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for this short comedy.
Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is, That sits and marks still who doth act amiss.
Our graves that hide us from the searching sun, are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus march we, playing, to our latest rest. Only we die in earnest,
that 's no jest.
Alex,
there are no words that can comfort those who will forever mourn your passing, but may comfort be found in the knowledge that, in your short life you partook-in, created, directed, choreographed, inspired, wrote, amplified and shone the light upon more Acts and Scenes than many would or could in a hundred lifetimes.
You leave a deeply saddened audience, because you are here no more, but a host of greatful characters who look to go out and keep your light shining.
Rest peacefully x
