To quit, or not to quit, that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous kvetching,
Or to take arms against that sea of doubters,
And by opposing, squelch them.
To quit — to sleep.
And by a sleep to say we end
The thousand natural gaffes my lips are prone to.
A consummation devoutly to be wished?
To quit; to sleep.
But then, he calls me “Sleepy Joe.”
Ay, there’s the rub.
For in withdrawal what ...
