Our Revels Now Are Ended

Dear friend,

The lights came up the other evening and the room emptied, and I found myself thinking — as one does — about how quickly the bright hours fold themselves away. I copied these lines out for you by hand.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Be well, and dream a little. More soon.