The Life You Save May Be Your Own

"O that this too too sullied flesh would melt

Thaw, and resolved itself into a sew

Or that the everlasting had not fixed

His canon ‘gainst self slaughter

Dead, God,

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fie or ‘t, all fie, 'tis an unneeded garden

that grows to seed

My own mind