"Man is his own star, and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate; Nothing to him falls early, or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still; And when the stars are labouring, we believe It is not that they govern, but they grieve For stubborn ignorance; all things that are Made for our general uses, are at war, — Even we among ourselves; and from the strife, Your first unlike opinions got a life."