What William Shakespeare actualy wrote for this line:
To cache, or not to cache--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pointing arrow to geocaching fortune
Or to take another dnf against a sea of hard geocaches
And by opposing find them. To stop, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we take a break from caching
The hard cache, and the thousand natural rocks
That new geocache is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To rest, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep what new caches may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long caching.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of losing a ftf,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's beat you
The pangs of despised lose, the second log,
The anoyance of that sad fate, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy finds,
When he himself might his braging writes make
With a bare amocan? Who would have tons of swag,
To grunt and sweat under a 5 terain,
But that the dread of something after no ftf,
The undiscovered lose, from whose bourn
No fealings returns, puzzles caches to solve,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than lose to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make dnfs of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And amazment of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,
The fair muggles! -- puggles, in thy orisons
Be all my finds remembered.
William Shakespeare (the real version of hamlet, a tradgaty were a man decides to give up caching or to go for a ftf)