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These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted 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 wich 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 by a sleep. -- Prospero til Ferdinand i The Tempest (1611), akt 4 scene 1