Not mine for sure. (Michel Montaigne)

Men do not know the natural infirmity of their mind: it does nothing but ferret and quest , and keeps incessantly whirling around, building up and becoming entangled in its own work, like our silkworms and is suffocated in it. A mouse in a pitch barrel. (Erasmus) it thinks it notices from a distance some sort of glimmer of imaginary light and truth; but while running toward it, it is crossed by so many difficulties and obstacles, and diverted by so many new quests, that it strays from the road bewildered.