Why, Man, He Doth Bestride The Narrow World
Like A Colossus, And We Petty Men
Walk Under His Huge Legs And Peep About
To Find Ourselves Dishonourable Graves.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Julius Caesar
-- Act i, Sc. 2