Confession
" Even now I curse the day-and yet I think Few come within the compass of my curse- Wherein I did not some notorious ill: As kill a man, or else devise his death, Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself, Set deadly enmity between two friends, Make poor men's cattle break their necks, Set fire on barns and haystalks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' door, Even when their sorrows almost was forgot, And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, "Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead." But I have done a thousand dreadful things, As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed, But that I cannot do ten thousand more."
Shakespeare.
Oh ya, Im guilty of that other perl type stuff too ;)
But somehow it dosent seem all that bad hmm...