Noise
September 30th, 2006, 07:37 PM
The camera cuts in to the same dark room as last week showing the shadow of a man standing facing a wall, leaning on it, head held low. He pounds his fists on the wall repeatedly and speaks softly.
Voltaire: "To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity so long life; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action--"
He pauses, and reflects on the piece he has just said.
My entire life... I've done nothing. I've accomplished naught. My greatest achievement being to stay alive day after day, when it hurts to know I'm breathing more and more with each passing day. None of the goals I set out to accomplish are ever achieved. My entire life has been destined to failure. No more. Tonight, Adam Pugh, though your successes might be far greater than mine, I have nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. This worthless life... Pugh, tonight, you will feel the horror that I have lived for twenty six years, one month, three weeks, and one day. I have as much feeling for you as I do myself.
He pauses once more...
With no reason left to breathe... Tonight is my night for salvation. I am Matthew Voltaire, and this is my final stand.
Voltaire: "To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep; to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity so long life; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action--"
He pauses, and reflects on the piece he has just said.
My entire life... I've done nothing. I've accomplished naught. My greatest achievement being to stay alive day after day, when it hurts to know I'm breathing more and more with each passing day. None of the goals I set out to accomplish are ever achieved. My entire life has been destined to failure. No more. Tonight, Adam Pugh, though your successes might be far greater than mine, I have nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. This worthless life... Pugh, tonight, you will feel the horror that I have lived for twenty six years, one month, three weeks, and one day. I have as much feeling for you as I do myself.
He pauses once more...
With no reason left to breathe... Tonight is my night for salvation. I am Matthew Voltaire, and this is my final stand.