He went on about death, oppression, and bare bodkins a bit longer, but eventually he summed it up. When we shuffle off that hat of aluminum foil, To sleep perchance to dream of more pie, that's the stuff,įor in that sleep of pie, what dreams of more pie may come. That unmoisturized flesh is heir to? 'Tis a delusion The butt-ache, and billion natural cracks No more and by a sleep, to say we nap through Or to take arms against a sea of Tribbles,Īnd by opposing befriend them: to cry, to sleep. "To join, or not to join that's a question:
Even Willy Shakespeare, the Ol' Bard himself asked that very question.
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