"Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead" by Tom Stoppard


The first time I saw the play, I appreciated it for its humour.
Then when I read it, I admired it for its ability to look at "Hamlet" in a totally fresh way.
Later I came to admire it for its structure...
Now I have come to appreciate it for the poetry of some of the passages.

Page 44
"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."

 

Page 71:

GUIL: It's autumnal.

ROS: (examining the ground) No leaves.

GUIL: Autumnal -- nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day... Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it... Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth -- reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.


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