O liberty, Parent of happiness, celestial born When the first man became a living soul; His sacred genius thou.

Some have too much, yet still do crave; I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have, And I am rich with little store.

If nice guys finish last, then great guys come in right after them.

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust, Their wisdom by their rage of will, Their treasure is their only trust; And cloake' d craft their store of skill. But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind.

My mind to me a kingdom is, Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That earth affords or grows by kind. Though much I want which most would have, Yet still my mind for bids to crave.

O liberty, Parent of happiness, celestial born When the first man became a living soul; His sacred genius thou.

True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak; They hear and see, and sigh, and then they break.