it is for want of self-culture that the superstition of traveling, whose idols are america, england, egypt, italy, and greece, retains its fascination for all knowledgeable men. they who made america, england, egypt, italy, and greece venerable in the imagination did so by sticking fast to where they were, building immortal fame, like the magnetic north. in many hours, we feel that duty is our place. in all we do we need to invest in time, to yield richness in the times to come. the great spirit is that which observes and foresees all things, as the son of themis much-enduring prometheus.

the soul is no traveler, the wise man stays at home, but he is not mechanical in his voluntary submission, he is transcending. and when his necessities, his duties, on any occasion calls him from his house, or into foreign lands, he is at home still; he will not seek their approval, instead shall make men sensible by the expression of his countenance, that he goes the missionary of wisdom and virtue, and visits cities and men like a sovereign, not as an interloper or a valet.

the more freedom you have, the more discipline is needed; the less freedom, the less discipline is required. for freedom is earned at a very precious price and therefore needs to be preserved with grace and wisdom. it seems that most things in life take the form of a paradox, which is opposites coming into agreement. there can never be something for nothing, to gain one must lose, to be rich one must endure poverty. and so the world becomes a circle that all men are cast within.

whoever has a home is a servus. the will of time will not be denied. whatever city she has built when she decides it will be torn to the ground. and what new prince she will raise. and so will all these buildings perish and a new kingdom found inside. one day you will understand why everything you touch will die. only what is inside will last. our spirit lives on in these words. the first will be last.