The art of being yourself at your best is the art of unfolding your personality into the person you want to be. . . . Be gentle with yourself, learn to love yourself, to forgive yourself, for only as we have the right attitude toward ourselves can we have the right attitude toward others.
Well, now, this is exactly my case. I am in love; and my sweetheart is LIBERTY. Be that heavenly nymph my companion, and these wilds and .Woods shall have charms beyond London and Paris in slavery. To have no proud monarch driving over me with his gilt coaches; nor his host of excise-men and tax-gatherers insulting and robbing me ; but to be my own master, my own prince and sovereign, gloriously preserving my national dignity, and 'pursuing my true happiness; planting my vineyards, and eating their lucious fruits; and sowing my fields, and reaping the golden grain: and seeing millions of ‘brothers all around me, equally free and happy as myself. “This, sir, is What I long for.” p. 155 ... On his return to Georgetown, he was asked by colonel Watson, why he looked so serious? I have cause, sir,” said he, “to look serious.” Watson "What! has general Marion refused to treat?” "No, sir.” “Well, then, has old Washington defeated sir Henery Clinton, and broke up our army ?" " No, sir, not that neither ; but worse.” “Ah! what can be worse?” "Why, sir, I have seen an American general and his officers, without pay, and almost without clothes, living on roots and drinking water ; and all for LIBERTY! What chance have we against such men!” It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to him for this speech. But the young ofiicer was so struck with Marion’s sentiments, that he never rested until he threw up his commission, and retired from the service. ' p 156 https://books.google.com/books?pg=PA155&dq=Francis+Marion+Weems&id=G79CAQAAMAAJ#v=onepage&q=Francis%20Marion%20Weems&f=false
Whenever I hear people talking about "liberal ideas," I am always astounded that men should love to fool themselves with empty sounds. An idea should never be liberal; it must be vigorous, positive, and without loose ends so that it may fulfill its divine mission and be productive. The proper place for liberality is in the realm of the emotions.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.