You can't be single-hearted.

Twenty impulses are always pulling different ways with you, and the result is that you become an unhappy, self-conscious waverer." Lewis was staring into the fire, and the older man leaned forward and put his hand very tenderly on his shoulder.
"I don't want to speak about the thing which gives you most pain, old chap; but I think you have spoiled your chances in the same way in another matter-the most important matter a man can have to do with, though it ill becomes a cynical bachelor like myself to say it." "I know," said Lewis dismally.
"You see it is the Nemesis of your race which has overtaken you.

The rich, strong blood of you Haystouns must be given room or it sours into moodiness.

It is either a spoon or a spoiled horn with you.

You are capable of the big virtues, and just because of it you are extraordinarily apt to go to the devil.