For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely; the pangs of disprized 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?
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Deja Vu
I hope this story breaks bigger, and with more analysis:
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