To shave or not to shave, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous insults
Or to take up shaver against a sea of stubble
And by removing it, end them? To shave, to itch
No more; and by a shave to hope to end
The chin-ache and the thousand natural pricks
That flesh and hair do, ‘tis a consolation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To shave, to smooth;
To smooth: perchance to remove, and end the rub?
But from that new born chin what growths may come
To mock the enterprises of today? When
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Stretches out this Sisyphean servitude,
And each battle’s work will produce no gain
Can I shave while knowing it is all in vain?