Hamlet and Analysis-Paralysis

To bridge, or not to bridge, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to simply

Model a scene of pastoral beauty,

Or to create a massive canyon

And by opposing bridge it. To chop—to bang,

No more; and by a banging say we end

The debate and the thousand second guesses

That devils us: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To chop—to bang;

To build, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:

For in that blank sheet what dreams may come,

When we have driven the last spike,

Must give us pause—there's the respect

That makes deciding so hard.

For who would bear the wise guy quips and scorns of time,

Th'doubter's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

The pangs of opportunity lost,

The creeping doubt, and the worry

That something better could have been,

When he himself decided 

With an open heart? Who would stringers and beams bear,

To grunt and sweat over a steamy swamp,

But that the dread of something after deciding,

The undiscovere'd country, from whence 

Something else could be built, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ideas we dream

Than stay with that we have decided?

Thus indecision 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.

Dedicated to all of us with analysis paralysis.

With apologies to the great bard, if you haven't figure it out, this morning has me pondering what to do with the scene before Falmouth. Do I go for a simple pastoral scene or the mega bridge?  Decisions- decisions.  No need to decide right away, but it was fun to bend Hamlet to my task.