aha, man tas pats

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"For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pang 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?"

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to die, to sleep
to sleep? perchance to dream?
aye, there's the rub
for in that sleep of death that dreams may come
when we have shuffled off this mortal coil
must give us pause

un es no galvas rakstīju, a tavs teksts javno no kaut kurienes iekopēts :)

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pārāk slinks esmu lai rakstītu :P
vieglāk ir sameklēt pēc 2 rindām.

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nu pat šito bērtule uz otriem sāniem apgriezīsies (kad/ja būs tur apakšā)

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ak vai cik žēl, ak vai cik žēl ... :)

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there's the respect that makes a calamity of a so long life

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