"O, that this too sullied flesh would melt , thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the everlasting had not fixed his canon against self slaughter! O God, God, how weary, stale, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't, ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed."
That is one depressed guy. I don't know why
(
Read more... )