“At the Theatre: To the Lady Behind MeDear Madam, you have seen this play;I never saw it till today.You know the details of the plot,But, let me tell you, I do not.The author seeks to keep from meThe murderer's identity,And you are not a friend of hisIf you keep shouting who it is.The actors in their funny wayHave several funny things to say,But they do not amuse me moreIf you have said them just before;The merit of the drama lies,I understand, in some surprise;But the surprise must now be smallSince you have just foretold it all.The lady you have brought with youIs, I infer, a half-wit too,But I can understand the pieceWithout assistance from your niece.In short, foul woman, it would suitMe just as well if you were mute;In fact, to make my meaning plain,I trust you will not speak again.And—may I add one human touch?—Don't breathe upon my neck so much.”

“I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?GUILDENSTERN: My lord, I cannot.HAMLET: I pray you.GUILDENSTERN: Believe me, I cannot.HAMLET: I do beseech you.GUILDENSTERN: I know no touch of it, my lord.HAMLET: It is as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with our fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.GUILDENSTERN: But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony. I have not the skill.HAMLET: Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.”

“Some friends don't understand this. They don't understand how desperate I am to have someone say, I love you and I support you just the way you are because you're wonderful just the way you are. They don't understand that I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me. I am so demanding and difficult for my friends because I want to crumble and fall apart before them so that they will love me even though I am no fun, lying in bed, crying all the time, not moving. Depression is all about If you loved me you would.”

“You're just afraid," I flung at him. "Of what would happen to you and your life at court if you were to carry Elisandra away. Of what your father would say. Of what Bryan would do to you."Now he, too, looked angry. "I am afraid of many things, but those are not the fears that keep me from action," he said.I turned my back on him. "Then I don't understand you," I said.I heard the door open. "No," he said, "and you never have.”

“Every poor lady that came to me, that touched my hand, that drew a small part of my spirit from me to her—they were only shadows. Aurora, they were shadows of you! I was only seeking you out, as you were seeking me. You were seeking me, your own affinity. And if you let them keep me from you now, I think we shall die!”

“The complaint lies with me, not with you. I never could find a way to make you proud of me, and at some point, I think I stopped trying. When you were here, I blamed you for that. I think now, the failure is mine... It occurs to me that death is a funny thing - not funny in a laughter sort of way, but in a twisty sort of way. It's the people who are left behind who have to grapple with the regret. The one who is gone is just gone. Wherever you are... I hope you have regret about what happened yesterday.”