Our revels now are ended
There, 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.
William Shakespeare, from "The Tempest"
