Just when the question of how to live had become clearer to him, a new insoluble problem presented itself - Death.

All the world's a stage and we are merely players.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

Who knows if to live is to be dead, and to be dead, to live? And we really, it may be, are dead; in fact I once heard sages say that we are now dead, and the body is our tomb.

Life and death are too resolute, too implacable to be accidental.

I want to have my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames.