George Gissing (1857-1903), The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft
In vain I have pondered the Stoic virtues. I know that it is folly to fret about the spot of one's abode on this little earth.
All places that the eye of heaven visits
But I have always worshipped wisdom afar off. In the sonorous period of the philosopher, in the golden measure of the poet, I find it of all things lovely. To its possession I shall never attain. What will it serve me to pretend a virtue of which I am incapable? To me the place and manner of my abode is of supreme import; let it be confessed, and there an end of it. I am no cosmopolite. Were I to think that I should die away from England, the thought would be dreadful to me. And in England, this is the dwelling of my choice; this is my home.
Are to the wise man ports and happy havens.