You are loved. If so, what else matters?

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.

Time can make soft that iron wood.

Let us not forget such words, and all they mean, as hatred, bitterness, and rancor greed, intolerance, bigotry; let us renew our faith and pledge to man, his right to be himself and free.

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither listen nor speak.

For my omniscience paid I toll In infinite remorse of soul. All sin was of my sinning, all Atoning mine, and mine the gall Of all regret. Mine was the weight Of every brooded wrong, the hate That stood behind each envious thrust, Mine every greed, mine every lust. And all the while for every grief, Each suffering, I craved relief With individual desire, – Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire About a thousand people crawl; Perished with each, — then mourned for all!