All our geese are swans.
You think that upon the score of fore-knowledge and divining I am infinitely inferior to the swans. When they perceive approaching death they sing more merrily than before, because of the joy they have in going to the God they serve.
The pursuit of the perfect, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.
Every sweet hath its sour, every evil its good.
Sweet meat must have sour sauce.