Everywhere man blames nature and fate, yet his fate is mostly but the echo of his character and passions, his mistakes and weaknesses.

If you can channel the best part of you that is bigger than yourself, where it__ not about your ego and not about getting ahead, then you can have fun and you aren__ jealous of others. You see other people's talent as another branch of your own. You can keep it rooted in joy. Life is long and there are plenty of opportunities to make mistakes. The point of it all is to learn.

How do you surrender when every cell of your being is screaming that your life is not working and that you need to do something to make it work? How do you surrender in that moment when jealousies, envy, doubt, rage, resentment all rise up inside you? You accept that you are resisting letting go; you accept that perhaps you are not yet ready to take your hands off the steering wheel; you accept this with kindness to who you are in the moment, being gentle and tender instead of beating yourself over the head with the 'Must hurry up, time is of the essence, everyone is passing me by' train of thought.

Merry hearts are vulnerable to death, don't be over-joyed to the state of oblivion, lest the enemy poison your meal.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

Walter Scott has no business to write novels, especially good ones. _ It is not fair. _ He has fame and profit enough as a poet, and should not be taking the bread out of other people__ mouths. _ I do not like him, and do not mean to like Waverley if I can help it _ but fear I must.