We Travel our own road, we decide on our own journeys and routes to
take, We choose to turn or be convinced into turning off the path that we ourselves set, No one makes us do this or anything in life. at the end only alone do we have to explain this, not to anyone else, only to ourselves, our own worst enemies.
From Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam:27, 1850:
I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.