All that you call the world is the shadow of that substance which you are, the perpetual creation of the powers of thought, of those that are dependent and of those that are independent of your will. Do not cumber yourself with fruitless pains to mend and remedy remote effects; let the soul be erect, and things will go well. You think me the child of circumstances: I make my circumstance.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Transcendentalist (1842)