We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use! As tho’ to breathe were life.
He hath not fed of the dainties that are bred of a book. He hath not eat paper, as it were; be hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not replenished. He is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts.
Your current conditions do not reflect your ultimate potential, but rather the size and quality of goals upon which you currently are focusing.
You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are not what we are, nor do we treat or esteem each other for such, but for what we are capable of being.
We are born with faculties and powers capable almost of any thing, such at least as would carry us farther than can easily be imagined: but it is only the exercise of those powers, which gives us ability and skill in any thing, and leads us towards perfection.
To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.
There is nothing of which every man is so afraid as getting to know how enormously much he is capable of.[Der er Intet som ethvert Menneske er saa bange for, som for at faae at vide, hvor uhyre meget han formaaer.]
Questions provide the key to unlocking our unlimited potential.
Ought not every woman, like every man, to follow the bent of her own talents?[Chaque femme, comme chaque homme, ne doit-elle pas se frayer une route d’après son caractère et ses talents?]
Only by going too far can we find out how far we can go.
