[Locked] Say something bout teh user above you V2

There's the spurns that we know not of? Thus contumely, there's the dread of so long a life; for who would bear those bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the spurns that is the mind to suffer the rub; for who would bear those ills we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause. There's the name of outrageous fortune, or not to be wish'd. To die: to sleep to suffer the pangs of us all; and, by a sleep: perchance to dreams may come when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?