"To my deafness I'm accustomed, To my dentures I'm resigned, I can manage my bifocals, But Oh how I miss my mind."

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Born often under another sky, placed in the middle of an always moving scene, himself driven by the irresistible torrent which draws all about him, the American has no time to tie himself to anything, he grows accustomed only to change, and ends by regarding it as the natural state of man. He feels the need of it, more he loves it; for the instability; instead of meaning disaster to him, seems to give birth only to miracles all about him.

— Alexis de Tocqueville