Hermies week 7

Ohhhh decisions decisions....each day you go without chopping the decision is being made for you.


Sensi or not sensi, that is the question:


Whether 'tis nobler in the garden to suffer


The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,


Or to take arms against a sea of pollen,


And by opposing end them? To produce: to grow;


sensi bud; and by grow to say we end


The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks


That plant is heir to, 'tis a consummation


Devoutly to be wish'd. To produce, to grow;


To grow: perchance to excel: ay, there's the rub;


For in that garden of sensi what dreams may come


When we have shuffled off this seeded skank,


Must give us pause: there's the respect


That makes calamity of so long life;


For who would bear the nanners and seeds of hermaphrodites,


The oppressor's wrong, the proud gardener's contumely,


The pangs of despised pollen balls, nature's law raw cruelty ,


The insolence of beginners and the spurns


That patient merit of the unworthy takes,


When he himself might his sensimilla make


With a bare bud? who would pollinate her,


To grunt and sweat under a weary life,


But that the dread of bring forth unwanted seed,


The undiscover'd pod from whose bourn


No traveller shall be borne, 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 SINSEMILLA! Nymph, in thy orisons


Be all my sins remember'd.


Kill them.