"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,I stopped him there, suggesting that maybe that wasn't the best choice of poetry, or even Shakespeare, to uplift a depressed person. (Why not just use the W.H. Auden one about the rotting groundhog? Sheesh.) So then he just laughed and skipped ahead to the appropriate passage for this occasion:
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!"
"...it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
My husband...he does laugh best when he laughs at himself. And in the end, it did cheer me up, as well.