"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 appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! 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? Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither..."

~ Hamlet

Whenever I feel emotionally under the weather, this speech occurs to me. It seems such a perfect depiction of melancholy, so perfectly phrased. This state of being is the biggest bane of my existance - like Hamlet, I recognise how fantastic the world, the miracle of life, of nature, of art, take your pick. And yet, some days, I just don't feel it. Now within Hamlet, this speech can be performed however you like. In Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, it's played as nonsense to confound the spies - in Branagh's "Eternity Version", it is a moment of honest clarity in a stream of lies. My heroic English teacher points out that he explains how he is feeling, but not why to prevent R and G discovering his secret.

Whether or not Hamlet is being sincere, the speech still stands as perfect. Were you to ask me how I was feeling for the last six days or so, this could be my only response. But I'm sure it'll go away soon. It usually does.