User:Smallgreen42

Our revels now are ended. These our dreams, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of their vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the reality itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial lifetime faded, Leave but a wisp behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.