William Shakespeare on Philosophical pessimism

“O heaven! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times... how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth,—viewing his progress through What perils past, what crosses to ensue,— Would shut the book and sit him down and die.”

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd.”

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.”