In Which I Return, Again

I know, students. You have been wondering what became of your most humble professor. I got caught up in dealing with a number of issues. Some good. Some less so. I am returned now. I hope to get back to most of the things I was working on before. I have not decided if I will return to the movie reviews yet. It seems so small a thing at the moment. But I might do it. Only time will tell. Anyway, I am returned, students. So dry your tears. Usually after an absence I write something political in nature. I have something different in mind today.

I could explain what follows, or rather, explain why I am sharing it and what it means to me. But I am not going to do that today. I am going to present what follows, without commentary. Which is unusual for me. But today I want what follows to be its own commentary. That means some will misunderstand. But that really is no different then when I do try to explain things. If there is something you don’t understand, you can always ask me questions.

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.

The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
(Act 3, scene 1) by William Shakespeare


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12 Responses to “In Which I Return, Again”

  1. Desiree G Says:

    Welcome back, regardless of the circumstances of your absence.

  2. mysirstoy Says:

    Welcome back. You were missed.

  3. littleannab Says:

    Welcome back

  4. i am pleased by Your return.

  5. Welcome back Sir, I enjoyed taking time out to revisit and contemplate a little Hamlet thank you for sharing.
    “—Soft you now,
    The fair Ophelia!—Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remembered.”

  6. *Sniffles, and dries my eyes. Sets the tissues aside and smiles.* I’m glad you’re back, Sir. Perhaps it seems strange to say, but I did miss you. I’d like very much to ask you a question about the videos you posted, but I can’t see them. When I can, I will be sure to.

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