Reflections on Planning

I have of late, (but wherefore I know not) lost all sense of 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'er hanging firmament, this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire: why, it appeareth 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;