Our revels now are ended: These our actors—,
           As I foretold you—, were all spirits and
           Are melted into air, 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 which 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 with a sleep. — The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1

BTW : I have ALWAYS said that every human condition is embodied in these works of art. And TRUTH.

I have a feeling that we are ALL now on the Demeter (Bram Stoker) inside a Perfect Storm (G.Clooney)

Which Witch is Which ? :o)