To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart; one half will flutter here, one there.
Oh yet we trust that somehow good will be the final goal of ill!
Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
We cannot be kind to each other here for even an hour. We whisper, and hint, and chuckle and grin at our brother's shame; however you take it we men are a little breed.