Did you just write this extemporaneously? I want to put this where I'll see it at least 3 times a day.

  Who would work-hours bear,  
  To grunt and sweat under a startup life,  
  But that the dread of something after now,  
  The undiscovered country to whose bourn  
  No traveler arrives puzzles the will  
  And makes us rather bear those ills we have  
  Than fly to others that we know not of?  
    
  Thus time does cause operations in us all,  
  And thus the native hue of indecision  
  Is painted o'er with the pale cast of change,  
  And edifices of great inertia
  With this regard their currents turn awry,  
  And gain the name of action.