Hamlet II.ii.270-279
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 appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinate in faculties, 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?