Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Polonius is dead, killed by Hamlet. Hamlet has been sent to England. Ophelia, shattered by grief for her father and abandonment by Hamlet, has gone mad. She enters the court singing fragments of bawdy songs and distributing flowers. In the midst of her madness, she utters this piercing observation.
Ophelia’s mad wisdom — a profound truth delivered in the guise of insanity, about the unknowability of the self.