“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 a sleep.”

Shakespeare, The Tempest, IV.i. 167-177

The story is that today is the birthday and death day of William Shakespeare. It is also St. George’s Day, St. George being the patron saint of England. One could argue that Shakespeare fits that title as well. Is the story true? Was his life so perfectly rounded? Impossible to say. But the story is good, and that is what matters.

So Happy Birthday, Will of Stratford. Thank for for the stories, for the words that are so beautiful, I have written them on my skin. For being one of the reasons I make art.