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 heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d.
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,
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
Is sicklied o’er with 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.
- Hamlet
(William Shakespeare's "Hamlet")
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 heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d.
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,
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
Is sicklied o’er with 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.
- Hamlet
(William Shakespeare's "Hamlet")
My Computer
At a glance
Windows 7 Home Premium x64AMD FX-8150Corsair Vengeance Dual-Channel 1866MHz 8GB (2...x2 Galaxy GeForce GTX 560 2GB in SLI
- Computer Manufacturer/Model Number
- Mine
- OS
- Windows 7 Home Premium x64
- CPU
- AMD FX-8150
- Motherboard
- ASUS Sabertooth 990FX
- Memory
- Corsair Vengeance Dual-Channel 1866MHz 8GB (2x4GB)
- Graphics Card(s)
- x2 Galaxy GeForce GTX 560 2GB in SLI
- Sound Card
- (Onboard) Realtek ALC892
- Monitor(s) Displays
- Dynex 42 inch HDTV
- Screen Resolution
- 1920x1080
- Hard Drives
- Seagate Barracuda 2TB (SATA);
My Book 300GB (USB);
My Book 3TB (USB)
- PSU
- Kingwin KX-1000
- Case
- Corsair Carbide 500R
- Cooling
- Corsair H100
- Keyboard
- Logitech Wireless Solar K750
- Mouse
- Logitech Wireless M305
- Internet Speed
- DSL (unsure of details)
- Other Info
- LiteOn iHBS212 Blu-Ray Writer (SATA)
