MyAngel3

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
Hamlet, 2. 2
~Shakespeare

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
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,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
Hamlet, 3. 1
~Shakespeare

With Love,

Back

"Far as a comet streaks across the sky; and the eagles soar into the horizon, Make no move to chase their shadows, for tis when they are caught, that the dreams shall cease to be.

gently gently, you shall have to take the low road, and that shall not be less than that high; for to take away the dreams for a man, that shall cruel.

and as the starts shine bright, the road shall have their bright light, and life shall have no loniness
so chase not the that which cannot be caught, and you shall get the blessings that you have sought"

(From Sara.)

Saints sung his name in Glory, and all the shine hath passed, and left a shadow, scarred by memories, Ohh, Was it lost so long ago in the sands that now consume his very soul...

Martin

I don't want to live--
I want to love first,
And live incidentally.
~Zelda Fitzgerald, letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1919