4 ms·
To be, or not to be?
by baybal2 5y ago
To be, or not to be?
- povik 5y agoWell now write that with E-Prime
- pferdone 5y agoTo or not to
- Razengan 5y ago2 || !2
- dilippkumar 5y agoTrue
- the_other 5y agoShould I stay or should I go now? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BN1WwnEDWAM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BN1WwnEDWAM
- Jtsummers 5y agoTo exist, or not to exist? Or perhaps: To continue to exist, or to cease to exist? Or, if you want to make a phone call in one of Vonnegut's stories: 2 B R 0 2 B
- deleted 5y ago[deleted]
- kragen 5y agoSurprisingly, that requires only minor changes to render it into E-prime, because old Will carefully chose his words to say what he meant clearly instead of falling back on the vague and fuzzy "be". This version suffers metrically, I think: To exist, or not to exist: that question burns: Whether a nobler mind would suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or would 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 heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh inherits, the best devoutly wish for This consummation. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: but that prospect brings terror, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: the respect 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 despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the 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 undiscover'd 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 Yields its place to the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith 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 They will remember all my sins.
- ironmagma 5y ago“Hope exists as the thing with feathers,” just doesn’t have as nice a ring to it though.