I am wise only in that I know I am not. And kindness only comes at the price of someone else, I have learned through Traveling. What rubric could possibly judge a man, knowing this? There are too many variables to consider, too many conflicting schools of thought. Even bettering humanity through collective effort, which I have aspired to since I could conceive rational thought, is not the best rubric. What of other sentient beings? What of those who are hurt or downtrodden for the good of all others? What of secrets and lies, negative things by most standards, used for good and made to better the world around us?

[He listens very quietly and attently to Daneel's story, feeling a small sense of kinship in the descriptions of Elijah by one who knew him so well. Leonardo remains silent, even after Daneel has finished speaking, before mentally replying in a soft and somber tone, an undercurrent of self-loathing creeping its way into his thoughts.]

You talk of me as if I am spun gold, when I know I am naught but simple flax. I am flattered you see me in such a respected light, but I... cannot admit to seeing myself in that light. I do not think I change any world for the better, even the ones we have visited. In fact, I worry I have not done enough, I have not done well enough. You say I am wise and kind, but all I can see is a witless fool who once thought he was a gifted architect and engineer. Now I know that all men see me as in the future è un ritrattista dannato. How can I possibly be helping mankind with that?