Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. - Alexander Pope

But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed:
Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed;
In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there,
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where:
No creature owns it in the first degree,
But thinks his neighbour farther gone than he!

To shoot is human, to make your own bullets is divine. Let’s be honest, we were all beginners at one point or another.

Tak ucz ludzi, jak byś nie uczył ich wcale.
Lecz przypominał rzeczy znane im doskonale.