The choice kills thousands, possibilities
Undone fore’er, and brings to life but one
Of me; the wish, however, puts to sleep
My single mind and wakes my millions more.
Now which of these is life—to do, to dream?
And which the better course—to be, to seem?
It is the one by which my self becomes:
I wish, I choose; but never choose sans wish.
At last am I the one among my crowd.