Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. In their continuances will not feed themselves.
Some men never seem to grow old.
Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be. Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt. In time we hate that which we often fear. He is not great who is not greatly good.