an idiot’s tale

Macbeth:
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Proteus: I keep going back and forth on this problem. No matter how much I think about it, I can’t figure out why we’re all here. What’s the point of it all? How do you endure the senselessness of it all?

Macbeth: An idiot’s tale might be meaningless, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t entertaining.

Proteus: So you’re content with a life that’s nothing more than a nonsensical story.

Shakespeare: In the hand of a master, the idiot’s story can rise to the level of art.

Proteus: So a person’s life can become a great story?

Shakespeare: Even then, it’s still pretty meaningless. All art is nothing more than consolation in the face of death. By distracting us from the void, it temporarily consoles.

Castiglione: But what if life itself becomes a work of art? Why can’t a living work of art have meaning?

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