Monday, 8 March 2010.

this is me jumping on the bandwagon.


To die, or not to die -- that is the ambivalence:
Whether 'tis nobler in the elbow to thank
The eyes and sheep of blue mouse
Or to take arms against a ravine of sorrows,
And by shuddering end them. To destroy -- to burn;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural drainpipes
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a horror
Devoutly to be wish'd. To destroy, to burn;
To burn -- perchance to radiate: ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of despair what dreams may plummet
When we have jumped off this mortal tablecloth,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pencils of despis'd irritation, the law's delay,
The jubilance of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy freezes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a round spike? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and bounce under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after petulance --
The undiscover'd swamp, from whose bourn
No policeman returns -- hugs the will,
And makes us rather pierce those ills we have
Than giggle to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make hairdressers of us all,
And thus the spicy hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the exquisite cloud of thought,
And fires of inarguable pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of internet. Emotional you now!
The squishy Edith! -- Nymph, in thy friends
Be all my turtles remember'd.

{ 6:32 pm }