The only success worth one's powder was success in the line of one's idiosyncrasy. . . what was talent but the art of being completely whatever one happened to be?
Oh, who would choose to be a traveler? --That anxious railway-guide unravelerWho spends his nights in berths and bunks,His days in chaperoning trunks;Who stands in line at gates and wicketsTo spend his means on costly ticketsTo Irkutsk, Liverpool and YapAnd other dots upon the map.