Doesn’t this inevitably lead to T. S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock? If T. S. Eliot had not intended for his readers to ask questions, wouldn’t he have been more forthcoming about his full name? And why else would he start his Prufrock poem in Italian, even though he knows we can’t read it? And isn’t Prufrock, whose first name, like that of the author, is only alluded to, even more lost in the interrogative than Hamlet? “Do I dare? Do I dare?” Why does he keep asking that? Between what to eat and how to wear his hair, is there anything this guy can decide on? But if he is lost in questions like Prince Hamlet, then why does he say, “I am not Prince Hamlet”? With all this questioning, doesn’t it seem that he is? Or is he saying that his questions don’t rise to the level of Hamlet’s? Are questions not all equal? Then who is worse, someone who doesn’t ask questions, or someone whose questions aren’t any good? Or does contemplating this conundrum make me worse than either? Or is this question of who is worse the question?