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newglhair |
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alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice William Shakespeare: 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, The 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 the 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 undiscover'd 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 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 remember'd. |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice William Shakespeare: 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, The 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 the 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 undiscover'd 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 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 remember'd. |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice William Shakespeare: 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, The 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 the 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 undiscover'd 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 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 remember'd. |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice паслухайте критинозо вы хоть дочитайте виляма шакесприра |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice My heart s in the Highlands Robert Burns Мое сердце... stihi.ru›2003/03/17-692 Мое сердце - в горах, мое сердце - не с вами: За оленем бежит и крадется за ланью; Мое сердце - в горах, вы не верьте глазам; Мое сердце - в горах, где бы ни был я сам. До свидания, горы, мой Север, прощай! Ты - достоинства, чести и доблести край! И куда бы скитанья меня ни вели, Горы, вам признаюсь в бесконечной... Читать ещё |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice |
alkophobe |
учительница английсского из Новочеркасска |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 21:39) количества дур в России не переведется учительница английсского из Новочеркасска шотландсские колхозники |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 21:49) |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 21:39) количества дур в России не переведется учительница английсского из Новочеркасска |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 22:06) коза летит по следу оленя |
alkophobe |
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alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice помню тройку удалаю гимназистки румяные |
alkophobe |
(newglhair @ 24.12.2019 16:04) Hair Juice |
alkophobe |
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alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 22:21) |
alkophobe |
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alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 22:45) М.Леонтьева - первая начальница Смольного института. Открытие Смольного института, было настолько революционным ... Надо сказать, что первый выпуск Воспитательного общества благородных девиц был действительно блестящим. Он состоялся 30 августа 1776 г. Выпускалось всего 39 девиц. Читать ещё |
alkophobe |
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alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 22:59) |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 22:59) Гитлер просто не знал что на Россию нужно нападать с 31 декабря по 13 января |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 23:11) |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 23:26) кстати песню яб запретил за спаивание пожилых жннщин |
alkophobe |
(alkophobe @ 24.12.2019 22:51) М.Леонтьева - первая начальница Смольного института. Открытие Смольного института, было настолько революционным ... Надо сказать, что первый выпуск Воспитательного общества благородных девиц был действительно блестящим. Он состоялся 30 августа 1776 г. Выпускалось всего 39 девиц. Читать ещё |
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