Difference between revisions of "To Trust or not to Trust"

From MgmtWiki
Jump to: navigation, search
(Created page with "==Full Title== The choice about which correspondents to trust, and to what degree of Assurance is needed to make that trust decision is explored. ==Context== <blockquote>...")
 
(Context)
Line 2: Line 2:
 
The choice about which correspondents to trust, and to what degree of [[Assurance]] is needed to make that trust decision is explored.
 
The choice about which correspondents to trust, and to what degree of [[Assurance]] is needed to make that trust decision is explored.
 
==Context==
 
==Context==
<blockquote>
+
<pre>
 
To trust, or not to trust, that is the question:
 
To trust, or not to trust, that is the question:
 
Whether it's nobler in the mind to suffer
 
Whether it's nobler in the mind to suffer
Line 35: Line 35:
 
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
 
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
 
With this regard their currents turn awry
 
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.<\blockquote>
+
And lose the name of action.<\pre>

Revision as of 16:09, 24 October 2018

Full Title

The choice about which correspondents to trust, and to what degree of Assurance is needed to make that trust decision is explored.

Context

To trust, or not to trust, that is the question:
Whether it's nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous breeches,
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 wish'd. 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 of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'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 undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller 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.<\pre>