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Originally posted by pirhanna
reply to post by kdog1982
Maybe this is wrong, but I was rooting for that kid to get killed the whole movie.
I just couldn't take his whining anymore. Shut up kid!!
Originally posted by kdog1982
Originally posted by XelNaga
i guess i should start saving my bottle caps and figure out how to make some fixer
Really don't get what you are going with that.
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 wished.
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.
Soft you now, The fair Ophelia!
Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered
Originally posted by dr_strangecraft
Is it worth trying to live in a post-apocalyptic hell? Some poster said it best on an earlier thread
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 wished.
And a little later in the same post:
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.
Soft you now, The fair Ophelia!
Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Originally posted by kdog1982
Originally posted by XelNaga
i guess i should start saving my bottle caps and figure out how to make some fixer
Really don't get what you are going with that.