My life is like water that has gone over the dam and turned no mill wheels. Here I am, not happy, but not unhappy, as my days run on to the sea, idly… - Zoë Akins

T<small>ILLERTON</small>: "To him that hath it shall be given—" She hath ... that's all. That's greatness. P<small>RESCOTT</small>: One sort of greatness, maybe. T<small>ILLERTON</small>: Even the great can have only their own sort of greatness. P<small>RESCOTT</small>: And it's often only that they're great sponges. T<small>ILLERTON</small>: Often, yes, or great roses for whose blooming the trees have been pruned and stripped. But they make the beauty of the world and that's enough.

And have we lost the right
To look on a blooming bough
Without remembering how
Once with high promising
We were a part of spring—
We who are now the dead
Leaves of other years strewn where flowers spread?

So much do I love wandering,
So much I love the sea and sky,
That it will be a piteous thing
In one small grave to lie!