<S>
Goodbye, old friend.
"But that the dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied over with a pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents tury awry and lose the name of action."
Hamlet, Act III Scene 1
Seems appropriate.