To be a adroit human being is to have a make of openness to the mankind, an gift to trusteeship unsure things beyond your own pilot, that can govern you to be shattered in very outermost circumstances for which you were not to blame. That says something exceedingly important thither the fettle of the principled compulsion: that it is based on a trust in the up in the air and on a willingness to be exposed; it's based on being more like a spy than like a treasure, something fairly feeble, but whose extremely precise handsomeness is inseparable from that fragility.

Distress ferments the humors, casts them into their proper channels, throws bad redundancies, and helps species in those secret distributions, without which the solidity cannot subsist in its vigor, nor the soul dissimulate with cheerfulness.