“This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains by necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star.” -- Edmund Act 1, Scene ii Standing ready to release all my anguish As the rain beats upon my head, the whole Weight of the world — damning — If not to drive me to insanity, then why so unrelenting? Around me stand forest trees, deeply rooted and steadfast The coarse whistling of pine needles thrashing about themselves — yet, they stand unwavering Am I to stand here, Resolute in my misfortune As the ruthless torrents of the world are so inclined to disfavor my own fruition Not satisfaction nor contentment can be attained through inaction — Only fools and cowards choose to remain Sedentary when slighted Whether by one man or the whole world, It is unbecoming of mankind to shy away from what the Cosmos has delivered to their feet.