• Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
    Man never Is, but always To be Blest.
    The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home,
    Rest and expatiates in a life to come.
    Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
    Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
    His soul proud Science never taught to stray
    Far as the solar walk or milky way;
    Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n,
    Behind the cloud-topp'd hill, an humbler heav'n.

    Alexander Pope, “Essay On Man”