Shakespeare: father of Hamlet.

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 wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub!

For in that sleep of death what dreams my come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the repsect
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 despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to other 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 though,
and enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Ahhhhh..... The poems of the great Shakespeare... He was so good. I think I admire him most.
This soliloquy Hamlet is saying is allabout how he is debating on whether to die, or to live... That death may have more dreads than this life, and that the unknownis terrifying, even though I know that is not true.
Anyways, Definitely on not even sucha wonderful note, (compar'd with Shakespeare)
my latest days have been wonderful. Sure, some have had sadness, but mostly wonderful. I have this boyfriend,a nd God has blessed us,and I really am glad for that.
Life is good, and God is great.
Sigh. Sure, boys are stupid, But, I only have to be here for a little while longer.

Touched by an angel

Written by: Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
in the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
and suddely we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.


Hmmmm I really like poetry. I am an English freak. What can I do?
Later.