Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
A field of glory is a field for all.
Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them
But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?