Our revels now are ended.
These our actors,
As I foretold you,were all spirits
Are melted into air-into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of
The cloud capp'd towers, the gorgeous
The solemn temples, the great globe
Yea, all which inherit it shall
And, like this insubstantial pageant
Leave not a rack behind.
We are such stuff
Dreams are made on, and our little
Is rounded with a sleep.
William Shakespeare's "The Tempest"