Word came from the mountain retreat of a notable philosopher that the end was near. The beloved man was on his deathbed, and life was slowly ebbing away. Around the bed was a group of sorrowing disciples who felt the coming loss keenly and who talked in whispers among themselves of the manifold virtues of the old man now leaving them.
One said, "So pious, so pious! Which of the many virtues did he fail to uphold? Where at any point did he deviate in the slightest from dedication to the principles of truth?"
And another mourned, "And so learned. The vast writings of philosophy were as familiar to him as the daily news to anyone else. At any moment, he could call to mind some saying which would illuminate any possible question."
Still a third said, "And so charitable, so generous. Where was the poor man whom he did not help? Who in town is ignorant of his kindness? Why he kept for himself only enough to hold body and soul together."
But as this litany of praise continued, a faint tremor appeared on the philosopher's face. It became obvious that he was trying to say something. All the disciples leaned forward, with pent breath, to hear those last words.
Faintly, from the learned lips, there came the words:
"Piety, learning, charity ... and of my great modesty you say nothing?"
----------------A Final Thought ...
"Nothing is so commonplace as to wish to be remarkable."
- Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. (1809–94), U.S. writer, physician. The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, ch. 12 (1858)