Every man living shall assuredly meet with an hour of temptation, a certain critical hour, which shall more especially true what mettle his heart is made of.
I suspect it was...the old story of the implacable necessity of a man having honour within his own natural spirit. A man cannot live and temper his mettle without such honour. There is deep in him a sense of the heroic quest; and our modern way of life, with its emphasis on security, its distrust of the unknown and its elevation of abstract collective values has repressed the heroic impulse to a degree that may produce the most dangerous consequences.
Now sit we close about this taper here, and call in question our necessities.
Once more, adieu. The rest let sorrow say.