O God, the creature knows not to what end Thou hast made Him; teach him, and write in the depths of his soul that the clay must suffer itself to be shaped at the will of the potter. François Fénelon
Men may know many things by seeing; but no prophet can see before the event, nor what end waits for him. Sophocles
What end impersonal, what breathless age, Incontinent of quiet and of years, What calm catastrophe will yet assuage This final drouth of penitential tears? Yvor Winters