As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods;
They kill us for their sport.
I studied King Lear at my tender age, and for whatever reason I don't know, this line was like a seal branded into my mind. At various moments in my life, it kept leaping out into my consciousness. It is too painful just thinking about it - the transciency and fickleness of Life. Ironically, after days of grey sky and rain, the sun is now shining bright outside my window. Maybe the only thing we can hold on to is these moments of sunshine when they are here.