I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me.
We cannot make bargains for blisses, / Nor catch them like fishes in nets; / And sometimes the thing our life misses, / Helps more than the thing which it gets.
Women and men in the crowd meet and mingle, Yet with itself every soul standeth single.
True worth is in being, not seeming
Every life is meant to help all lives; each man should live for all men's betterment.
Not what we think, but what we do, / Makes saints of us: all stiff and cold, / The outlines of the corpse show through / The cloth of gold.