Come, my friends Tis not too late to seek a newer world Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die
Alfred Lord TennysonMen, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new, That which they have done but earnest of the things which they shall do.
Alfred Lord Tennyson