What shelter to grow ripe is ours? What leisure to grow wise?

Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he Who finds himself, loses his misery.

Ah! two desires toss about The poet's feverish blood; One drives him to the world without, And one to solitude.

And long we try in vain to speak and act Our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well - but 'tis not true!

You know, many a man realizes late in life that if when he was a boy he had known what he knows now, instead of being what he is he might be what he won't; but…

In youth men are apt to write more wisely than they really know or feel; and the remainder of life may be not idly spent in realizing and convincing themselves…

Only a ripe fruit falls to the ground. Ripeness is all. An unripe ego cannot be thrown, cannot be destroyed. And if you struggle with an unripe ego to destroy …