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“The Mad Scene. Enter Ophelia!”
― Eugene O'Neill, Long Day’s Journey into Night

“I

On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping
White Ophelia floats like a great lily;
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils...
- In the far-off woods you can hear them sound the mort.

For more than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Has passed, a white phantom, down the long black river.
For more than a thousand years her sweet madness
Has murmured its ballad to the evening breeze.

The wind kisses her breasts and unfolds in a wreath
Her great veils rising and falling with the waters;
The shivering willows weep on her shoulder,
The rushes lean over her wide, dreaming brow.

The ruffled water-lilies are sighing around her;
At times she rouses, in a slumbering alder,
Some nest from which escapes a small rustle of wings;
- A mysterious anthem falls from the golden stars.

II

O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes child, you died, carried off by a river!
- It was the winds descending from the great mountains of Norway
That spoke to you in low voices of better freedom.

It was a breath of wind, that, twisting your great hair,
Brought strange rumors to your dreaming mind;
It was your heart listening to the song of Nature
In the groans of the tree and the sighs of the nights;

It was the voice of mad seas, the great roar,
That shattered your child's heart, too human and too soft;
It was a handsome pale knight, a poor madman
Who one April morning sate mute at your knees!

Heaven! Love! Freedom! What a dream, oh poor crazed Girl!
You melted to him as snow does to a fire;
Your great visions strangled your words
- And fearful Infinity terrified your blue eye!

III

- And the poet says that by starlight
You come seeking, in the night, the flowers that you picked
And that he has seen on the water, lying in her long veils
White Ophelia floating, like a great lily.”
― Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell and The Drunken Boat

“She sinks. She sinks in holy sadness. Like an Ophelia in tears she sinks”
― Georges Rodenbach

“O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“It’s about finding your own twisted perfection, letting yourself fall too far and
taking a chance. If you’ve done all that. You have no reason to give up. Not now.”
― Abbi Glines, Because of Lila

“She speaks much of her father; says she hears
There’s tricks i� the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
That carry but half sense.

(Ophelia)”
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

“He feels
ennui
depression
adrift in his life. Purposeless, perhaps because
—dig a well in the Sudan and thejanjaweed come in and shoot the people anyway
—buy mosquito nets and the boys
you save grow up to
—rape women
—set up cottage industries in Myanmar and the army
—steals them and uses the women as slaves and
Ben is starting to be afraid that he is starting to share Chon’s opinion of the human species
that people are basically
shit.”
― Don Winslow

“The boys quiet until Ben looks across the table at Chon, holds his thumb and index finger a millimeter apart, and says, “We’re that close to being gay.â€�
They laugh for half an hour.
Collective dicks”
― Don Winslow

“In his mind’s eye, though, he seesâ€�
—T²¹±ô¾±²ú²¹²Ô
moving like scorpions across a similar landscape
his own caravan blown to shit
blood streaming from buddies
Now I’m one of them
He sights in again.
No time for
Lack of PTSD
He only hopes that
Gentle Ben
Increase-the-Peace Ben
is one of them, too, now.
Now, Ben.
Find your inner Taliban.”
― Don Winslow

“Ophelia,' said the boy. He said it very quietly. She didn't like the way he said that at all. He sounded sad and as though he expected more from her.
'And how do you know my name anyways?' she said. 'I never told you it, not once.'
'I heard it once, a long time ago.'
He was full of mysterious sentences like that.”
― Karen Foxlee, Ophelia and the Marvelous Boy

“They think thee mad? I'll show thou mad, my lord.”
― Phar West Nagle

“Even truth can be deceptive, whatever its appearance.”
― Karl Jaspers, Tragedy is not enough

“Hamlet ist besoffen und kriegt seine gespielten Orgasmen, Ophelia sagt zu ihm: "Hamlet, tue nicht so - gib dir nicht Mühe, ich weiß, du willst gerade an dein Morgen, wo du dir dein Begräbnis vorstellst, denken - aber du denkst, daß du bei der Sparkasse vorbeigehen sollst und vom Delikatessenladen den Espresso-Cafe holen sollst, weil du denkst - warum nicht, wenn ich es mir leisten kann, dann willst du mit deiner Mama telephonieren, weil sie jemand kennt, der die Adresse weiß von einer Dreizimmerwohnung, und du willst deinen Lieblingskäse holen, bevor du mit deiner Mutter telephonierst.”
― Emine Sevgi Özdamar