Yesterday is done. Tomorrow never comes. Today is here. If you don't know what to do, sit still and listen. You may hear something. Nobody knows.

Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure From your doors of gold and fame, Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger! But leave me a little love.

Beware of advice-even this.

There is no song to your singing.

Whenever a people or an institution forget its hard beginnings, it is beginning to decay.

Come clean with a child heart Laugh as peaches in the summer wind Let rain on a house roof be a song Let the writing on your face be a smell of apple orchards on late June.

I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.