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The Monday Morning Memo

After a long period of indecision about what to do with the knowledge that his uncle has murdered his father, Hamlet returns to Denmark. He has survived a plot to have him murdered, has been rescued by pirates and is now home, ready to deal with the problem.

In the meantime, his lover, Ophelia, has committed suicide. Hamlet and his friend, Horatio, are walking through the cemetery where two men are digging her grave. Hamlet and Horatio stop to chat with them and Hamlet shows an interest in the skulls that they have uncovered.

One of the gravediggers points to one of the skulls and says that it’s been in the earth for twenty-three years, Hamlet asks who it was and they tell him it was the king’s jester, Yorick. Hamlet picks it up.

“Alas, poor Yorick.”

He turns to Horatio and tells him that he knew Yorick well as a child. He tells him that he remembers how funny he was, how he rode piggyback on Yorick’s back a thousand times. He finds it a sobering thought that all those jokes, that singing, the flashes of merriment that set the king’s guests on fire at the dinner table – all that has come to this, a grinning skull, covered with muck.

– nosweatshakespeare.com

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Random Quote:

“Then Boros went indoors to fetch a little plastic bag from which he took a pinch of dried herbs, and started to roll a cigarette with them. ‘Good heavens, I haven’t smoked for 20 years,’ said Oddball suddenly, and his eyes lit up; I looked at him in amazement. It was a very bright Night. The full moon in June is called the Blue Moon, because it takes on a very beautiful sapphire shade at this time of year… We were sitting in the orchard under an old apple tree on which the apples were already fruiting… A great gulf of time opened before us. We chattered for whole centuries, talking nonstop about the same thing over and over, now with one pair of lips, now with another, all of us failing to remember that the view we were now contesting was the one we had defended earlier on… Boros disappeared into the house for an eternity, while Oddball and I sat without a word. His eyes were wide open and he was staring at me so intensely that I had to slip into the shadow of the tree to escape his gaze. And there I hid.”

- Olga Tokarczuk, Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, p. 164, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature

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