(no subject)
To love or not to love-that is the question:
Whether 'tis wiser in mind to preserve the heart
From bullets and arrows of inevitable bitter ends,
Or to take arms against odds of an unstable humanity
And become vulnerable in opposition. To love, to adore-
Forever-and by optimism say we'd end the world for one
Despite the chance of heartache and a thousand disasters
That flesh and soul is child of-'tis a vision
Earnestly sought by romantics. To love, to adore-
To adore, perchance to be loved. Ay, there lies the quandary,
For in dreams to be loved we know not if such dreams are true,
When we have uncoiled ourselves from this dreamlike disease,
We must give ourselves pause. Then, out of self-worth
Begin to live loveless at the expense of a intact reason,
For reason will bear no heartache.
To keep lonesome and sigh in a miserable lie;
It is in this where love dies fast.
Self-preservation takes higher import than ambiguity,
For it is all that is not understood
Which keeps hearts from flying.
Conscience does make a coward of us all,
And thus the natural emotion of adoration and affection
Is inhibited by the reasonable mind.
At the greatest pitch and moment in life
All hope of dreams diminish
And lose the name of love.
Whether 'tis wiser in mind to preserve the heart
From bullets and arrows of inevitable bitter ends,
Or to take arms against odds of an unstable humanity
And become vulnerable in opposition. To love, to adore-
Forever-and by optimism say we'd end the world for one
Despite the chance of heartache and a thousand disasters
That flesh and soul is child of-'tis a vision
Earnestly sought by romantics. To love, to adore-
To adore, perchance to be loved. Ay, there lies the quandary,
For in dreams to be loved we know not if such dreams are true,
When we have uncoiled ourselves from this dreamlike disease,
We must give ourselves pause. Then, out of self-worth
Begin to live loveless at the expense of a intact reason,
For reason will bear no heartache.
To keep lonesome and sigh in a miserable lie;
It is in this where love dies fast.
Self-preservation takes higher import than ambiguity,
For it is all that is not understood
Which keeps hearts from flying.
Conscience does make a coward of us all,
And thus the natural emotion of adoration and affection
Is inhibited by the reasonable mind.
At the greatest pitch and moment in life
All hope of dreams diminish
And lose the name of love.