Man is no star, but a quick coal

Of mortal fire:
Who blows it not, nor doth control

A faint desire,

I will complain, yet praise;
I will bewail, approve:
And all my sowre-sweet dayes
I will lament, and love.

There is an hour wherein a man might be happy all his life, could he find it

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,

For thou must die.

The ordinary man casts a shadow in a way we do not quite understand. The man of genius casts light.

I had no desire to be a star and a star's responsibility.