Prudent, cautious self-control

I have a confession to make.  It's a big one, and I fully expect to be flogged with a wet whole wheat noodle after it's done, but hey - we all have skeleton's in our closet.  I think. 

Anyway - when I was young, I read Harlequin Romances. 

*dodging wheat pasta*

They were great back then - the dark, handsome, dangerous man who could kiss a girl and make her world go white with forgetfulness.  What young girl wouldn't swoon while reading?  But I have to tell you - the best thing I ever got out of a Harlequin was a quote:  Know prudent, cautious self-control is wisdom's root."

Bobby Burns, from Bard's Epitaph.  I did not know that at the time, but the quote haunted me.  And years later, while in college, I decided to track it down, not knowing the title, by reading every poem Robert Burns ever wrote.  And I read, and read, and read...and finally found it on the very last page of the 4th book I had gone through.

I adopted it, decided to use it as my creed, and being a woman in possession of an ungodly amount of common sense, promptly went the other way.  I have made tons of mistakes in my life, and at least one was a whopper that made me wonder what on earth happened to all that common sense, but that's another skeleton that one day, I shall write and probably sell  to a soaps production company and become independently wealthy.

And in this 48th year of my life, Burns comes to mind again.  I will take his advice this time around.  And in my personal new year, I also vow never to read another Harlequin.  And I won't try to live one, either.

A Bard's Epitaph

Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song,
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
That weekly this area throng,
O, pass not by!
But, with a frater-feeling strong,
Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,
Wild as the wave,
Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear,
Survey this grave.

The poor inhabitant below
Was quick to learn the wise to know,
And keenly felt the friendly glow,
And softer flame;
But thoughtless follies laid him low,
And stain'd his name!

Reader, attend! whether thy soul
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit:
Know, prudent, cautious, self-control
Is wisdom's root.

- Robert Burns