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| author | Christoph Cullmann <cullmann@kde.org> | 2019-08-03 22:26:50 +0200 |
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| committer | Christoph Cullmann <cullmann@kde.org> | 2019-08-03 22:26:50 +0200 |
| commit | ec1341fcd178d72e1accd308d1ae314702e69c01 (patch) | |
| tree | 927c5113475a982af7a4809af78a8f4b4990be62 /themes/beautifulhugo/exampleSite/content/post/2015-02-13-hamlet-monologue.md | |
| parent | 05bc58562c52539f196ae4357afd80a23d34e812 (diff) | |
use new theme
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| -rw-r--r-- | themes/beautifulhugo/exampleSite/content/post/2015-02-13-hamlet-monologue.md | 41 |
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diff --git a/themes/beautifulhugo/exampleSite/content/post/2015-02-13-hamlet-monologue.md b/themes/beautifulhugo/exampleSite/content/post/2015-02-13-hamlet-monologue.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..48dd133 --- /dev/null +++ b/themes/beautifulhugo/exampleSite/content/post/2015-02-13-hamlet-monologue.md @@ -0,0 +1,41 @@ +--- +title: To be +subtitle: ... or not to be? +date: 2015-02-13 +--- + +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, +Th' 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 th' 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 enterprise of great pitch and moment +With this regard their currents turn awry +And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now, +The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons +Be all my sins remembered.
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