Truth be told, most of us are faking our way through life. We pick only those battles we are sure to win, only those adventures we are sure to handle, only those beauties we are sure to rescue.

There is something else I am after, out here in the wild. I am searching for an even more elusive prey . . . something that can only be found through the help of wilderness. I am looking for my heart.

Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce.

For our lives are in the Lord's hands; and they can do nothing unto us before God suffer them. Therefore give all thanks to God.

As I had only once to die, I was content to leave the time and place and means in the hand of God.

Take charge of your life or someone else will!

God knows what is my greatest happiness, but I do not. There is no rule about what is happy and good; what suits one would not suit another. And the ways by which perfection is reached vary very much; the medicines necessary for our souls are very different from each other. Thus God leads us by strange ways; we know He wills our happiness, but we neither know what our happiness is, nor the way. We are blind; left to ourselves we should take the wrong way; we must leave it to Him.

Let us put ourselves into His hands, and not be startled though He leads us by a strange way, a mirabilis via , as the Church speaks. Let us be sure He will lead us right, that He will bring us to that which is, not indeed what we think best, nor what is best for another, but what is best for us.

But strength alone though of the Muses bornIs like a fallen angel: trees uptorn,Darkness, and worms, and shrouds, and sepulchersDelight it; for it feeds upon the burrsAnd thorns of life; forgetting the great endOf poesy, that it should be a friendTo soothe the cares, and lift the thoughts of man.

O for ten years, that I may overwhelmMyself in poesy; so I may do the deedThat my own soul has to itself decreed.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

This is not to say, there never comes a day I'll take my chances and start again. And when I look behind on all my younger times, I'll have to thank the wrongs that led me to a love so strong.