Never measure the height of a mountain, until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it was.

For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, Yes

A heart pulsating in harmony with the circulation of sap and the flow of rivers? A body with the rhythms of the earth in its movements? No. Instead: a mind, shut off from the oxygen of alert senses, that has wasted itself on 'treasons, stratagems and spoils' — of importance only within four walls. A tame animal — in whom the strength of the species has outspent itself, to no purpose.