In all things is there a fitness: discord with discord hath its music;
And the harmony of nature is preserved by each one knowing his place.
The blind at an easel, the palsied with a graver, the halt making for the goal,
The deaf ear tuning psaltery, the stammerer discoursing eloquence,—
What wonder if all fail? the shaft flieth wide of the mark
Alike if itself be crooked, or the bow be strung awry;
And the mind which were excellent in one way, but foolishly toileth in another,
What is it but an ill-strung bow, and its aim a crooked arrow?
By knowledge of self, thou provest thy powers: put not the racer to the plough,
Nor goad the toilsome ox to wager his slowness with the fleet: