However smothered under former negligence, or scattered through the dull, dark mass of common thoughts - let thy genius rise as the sun from chaos.
And all may do what has by man been done.
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!
Truth never was indebted to a lie
Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
All men think that all men are mortal but themselves.