To forage or not to forage, that is the question: Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to hunger for the nuts and berries of outrageous fortune Or to hibernate in before the coming chills of winter, And by opposing to sleep at all. To eat- to sleep- No more; and by a sleep to say we end The hunger, and the thousand natural shocks That the stomach is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. To hunger- to sleep.
I am a bear. Hath not a bear eyes?
Hath not a bear paws, muzzle, dimensions, senses, affections, passions,
Fed with the same honey, hurt by the same bees
subject to the same hunters, maul by the same claws?
Warm’d and cool’d by the same winter and summer, as a moose is?
If you prick us, do we not roar?
If you tickle us, do we not bear hug?
If you poison us, do we not get tummy aches?
And if you wrong us, do we not revenge?
If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.