SPROOKJE

Er was eens een meisje, dat 's morgens een beetje bang wakker werd. 

Ze zei hardop: "zou ik op tijd kunnen worden wie ik moet zijn, voordat ik er niet meer ben?".

Het hondje dat aan haar voeten lag, zei: "Wat een ingewikkelde gedachte! Je bent wat je nu bent, en dat is toch goed zo! Je kunt toch helemaal niet weten wie je moet worden? De toekomst is niet echt te voorspellen...... Ik weet alleen dat mijn baasje om 12.00 uur thuis komt, en dan een eindje met me gaat wandelen. That's all I need to know! ".

CITAAT:

To be or not to be, that is the question ~ William Shakespeare

To be or not to be

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,
Th'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 th'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 undiscovered 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 pitch 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 remember'd.