While I was still a university studemt, I stumbled upon a sad man. He was disconsolate about his effectiveness as a professor of Shakesearean drama, and he told me the following:
Mondays, and Wednesdays, and Fridays creep by at their petty pace ; until, the last syllables of my garbled speech and all my lecture notes have lighted fools the way to dusty thought. Spout! Spout! I ramble. I am but a shadow who struts and frets his hour before the class and is heard no more. Mine is the course taught by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing!
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