The Winter Of Our Discontent

PHEW!
Alright, are we done now?

As the days go by, I hope those who feel most defeated by this outcome will settle in and start looking towards the future. I'm not concerned about our president's ability to lead our country. I'm concerned about his ability to unite us. To have a period such as the year following September 11, where nothing could divide us...and to have it followed by such division as we are in now...it seems nearly incomprehensible to me. I know the events through that time and the decisions the administration has made have dug this canyon inbetween us all. He can try to change that. But we're a stubborn people, too, and I just hope we can find ways to unite instead of pointing fingers, rolling our eyes, believing the other side is merely brainwashed and seeing no good in each other all the time. In my opinion, that's going to be as hard as any war.




Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
And all the clouds that loured upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments,
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamped, and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,—
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.