My montra?

To be or not to be....that is the question. Wither tiss nobler in the mind to bare 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 flash is their too....

tiss a consumation devoutly to be wished... To die

To sleep....

To sleep perchance to dream....aye there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams might come? When we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause.

Theres the respect that makes calamity of so long life . for who would bare the whips and scorns of time

the oppressors wrong

The proud man contumely

The pangs of disprised love

The laws delayed

The insolence of office

And the spurs that patient merit of the unworthy take.

When he himself might his quahatus make with a bare bodkin.

Who would fartles bare to grunt and sweat under a weary life

..... But the threat of something after death. The undercovered country from whos born no traveler returns ....puzzles the will.

And makes us rather bare thoes ills we have rather than fly to others we know not of.

Thus... Conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native huge of revolution is sickly ore with pale cast of thought and enterprises of great pitch and moment.... with this regard .

Their currents turn awry ....and loose the name of action.

----william Shakespeare ---

(Apologizes for spelling errors quoted from memory)

My montra cause in this quote Hamlet wants to die.....but realized that he can not do it