Fly, Dotard, Fly! With Thy Wise Dreams

Cavil You May, But Never Criticise.

An Excuse Is Worse And More Terrible Than A Lie; For An Excuse Is A Lie Guarded.

It Is Sure The Hardest Science To Forget!

But Blind To Former As To Future Fate, What Mortal Knows His Pre-existent State?

Placed On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise And Rudely Great... He Hangs Between; In Doubt To Act Or Rest; In Doubt To Deem Himself A God, Or Beast; In Doubt His Mind Or Body To Prefer; Born To Die, And Reasoning But To Err.