Ah, God, it were an easy Matter to choose a Calling had one all Time to live in! I should be fifty Years barrister, fifty a Physician, fifty a Clergyman, fifty soldier! Aye, and fifty a Thief, and fifty a Judge! All Roads are fine Roads, beloved Sister, none more than another, so that with one Life to spend I am a Man bare-bumm'd at Taylor's with Cash for but one pair of Breeches, or a Scholar at Bookstalls with Money for single Book: to choose ten were no Trouble; to choose one, impossible! All Trades, all Crafts, all Professions are wondrous, but none is finer than the rest together. Cannot choose, sweet Anna: twixt Stools my Breech falsetto the Ground!

The Sot-Weed Factor