William Shakespeare

What is life?

What is life? Aye, 'tis a puzzlement! What is it to be alive? Is it merely to take a breath and then to expire? Is it to be born, only to wither and die? Is it a feverish dream that we vainly strive to comprehend? Is it a fleeting moment, a single, solitary spark, that is snuffed out in the darkness and forgotten? Is life a journey to be cherished, or a chore to be endured? Is life a stage, with all its pomp and circumstance, or a never-ending circle with no beginning and no end? Is life a gift, or a curse? Is life a blessing, or a burden? Is life a precious thing to be savored, or a cruel joke to be suffered? Is life a comedy, or a tragedy? Is life a blessing, or a burden? Is life an adventure, or a prison? Is life a battle, or a reward? I cannot say for certain, but I do know this: life is the greatest mystery of all.