This is a test post

Because mucking around with one's theme on an empty blog is counterproductive.

Here is a second line to make this more substantial.

Here is a paragraph, stolen shamelessly from Shakespeare:

Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew, or that the Everlasting had not fixed his canon against self-slaughter. Oh, god. God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world. Fie on it. Ah, fie. It is an unweeded garden grown to seed -- things rank and gross in nature possess it merely that it should come to this. But two weeks' dead -- nay, not so much. Not two. So excellent a king that was to this, hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth, must I remember? Why, she would hang on him as if increase of appetite had grown by what it fed on, and yet within a month -- let me not think on it -- frailty, thy name is woman! A little month or ere those shoes were old with which she followed my poor father's body like Niobe, all tears -- why, she -- even she -- oh, god, a beast that wants discourse of reason would have mourned longer! Married with my uncle, my father's brother, but no more like my father than I to Hercules. A little month ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears had left the flushing in her galled eyes -- she married. Oh, most wicked speed to post with such dexterity to incestuous sheets. It is not, nor it cannot, come to good.

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.