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From silmaril, When you see this in a friend's journal, quote Shakespeare!

THOU, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiousity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact
My mind as generous, and my shape as true
As honest madam's issue? . . . Well, then.
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to th'legitimate-- fine word, legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top th'legitimate. I grow; I prosper.
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
--King Lear II i

*sigh* It all fell apart in the middle, though I still know both ends well enough.