There’s something about Hamlet that speaks deeply to me. Not that I have anything in common with him, really, but so many of the lines of the play resonate with me as being exemplary of the common human condition. I’m always a little surprised to find people who have encountered Hamlet and not felt that way.
I have of late, but
wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire: why, it appeareth nothing to me
but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason,
how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how
express and admirable, in action how like an angel,
in apprehension how like a god: the beauty of the
world, the paragon of animals; and yet to me, what
is this quintessence of dust?