I am a part of all that I have met.
Yet all experience is an arch wherethru’
gleams that untraveled world, whose margins
fade for ever and ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
to rust unburnished, not to shine in use
– that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will.
To strike, to seek, to find and not to yield.
Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1809-1892