To close or not to close.
That is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of Mexican influx.
Or to take arms against a wall of troubles
And by opposing break them. To die—to sleep.
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The politics and the thousand subjective
opinions
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, in an asylum—ay, there's the rub:
For in that of inflation of what dreams may
come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal
conundrum,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
To close or not to close the American border.
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