Hamlet in Act III, scene i (58–90)

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 heartache, 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 despis’d 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 these 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

Sonnet of the sweet complaint / F.G.Lorca

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.
I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.
If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,
never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn.

Emily Dickinson

Shatter open my skull, pour in it the wine of madness!

Let me be mad, as You; mad with You, with us.

Beyond the sanity of fools is a burning desert

Where Your sun is whirling in every atom:

Beloved, drag me there, let me roast in Perfection.

                                                                      Rumi

         

theme

 

"Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast."

William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Oh Mensch! Gib acht!
Was spricht die tiefe Mitternacht?
"Ich schlief, ich schlief -
aus tiefem Traum bin ich erwacht.
Die Welt ist tief und tiefer als der Tag gedacht.
Tief ist ihr Weh -Lust- tiefer noch als Herzeleid.
Weh spricht: Vergeh!
Doch alle Lust will Ewigkeit, will tiefe, tiefe Ewigkeit"
                                  
                      Friedrich Nietzsche

Ich bin ein Stern / Hermann Hesse

Ich bin ein Stern am Firmament,
Der die Welt betrachtet, die Welt verachtet,
Und in der eignen Glut verbrennt.


Ich bin das Meer, das nächtens stürmt,
Das klagende Meer, das opferschwer
Zu alten Sünden neue türmt.


Ich bin von Eurer Welt verbannt
Vom Stolz erzogen, vom Stolz belogen,
Ich bin ein König ohne Land.


Ich bin die stumme Leidenschaft,
Im Haus ohne Herd, im Krieg ohne Schwert,
Und krank an meiner eignen Kraft.


  

Waste land (excerpt) / T.S. Eliot

Dipak Kundu

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

Flux