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-capped 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 sleep.
Wiliam Shakespeare