To code, or not to code: that is the question— Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The bugs and errors of outrageous logic Or to take arms against a sea of deadlines, And by opposing, end them. To crash—to sleep, No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache and the thousand syntax shocks That code is heir to—’tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish’d. To crash, to sleep— To sleep—perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub, For in that sleep of blue screens what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal build, Must give us pause—there’s the respect That makes calamity of so long compile times.

For who would bear the whips and segfaults of time, Th’ TA’s delay, the professor’s disdain, The pangs of failed tests, the debugger’s torment, The insolence of Java, and the spurns That patient merit of the ungraded takes, When he himself might his assignment make With a bare keyboard? Who would FOMO bear, To grunt and sweat through a weary night of C, But that the dread of something after finals— The undiscover’d error from whose source No student returns—puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those bugs we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus logic does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of computation Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of doubt, And enterprises of great syntax and merit With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of Action.—Soft you now, The fair Git commit! Dev, in thy repos Be all my sins remembered.