Who said [c]arry your well-planed oar until you come to a race of people who know nothing of the sea, whose food is never seasoned with salt, strangers all to ships with their crimson prows and long slim oars, wings that make ships fly.

glamis thou art, and cawdor; and shalt be what thou art promis'd; yet do i fear thy nature; it is too full o' the milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; art not without ambition; but without the illness should attend it. what thou wouldst highly, that wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, and yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great glamis, that which cries, "thus thou must do, if thou have it: and that which rather thou dost fear to do than wishest should be undone." hie thee hither, that i may pour my spirits in thine ear; and chastise with the valor of my tongue all that impedes thee from the golden round, which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem to have thee crown'd withal.  

he lacks ambition.  

he is hesitant.  

he lacks courage.  

he has moral scruples.

i think its d

hope i can you