It is never too late to begin rebuilding, Though all into ruins your life seems hurled; For see! how the light of the New Year is gilding The wan, worn face of the bruised old world.

The two kinds of people on earth are the people who lift and the people who lean.

For this is wisdom- to love and live To take what fate or the Gods may give, To ask no question, to make no prayer, To kiss the lips and caress the hair, Speed passion's ebb as we greet its flow, To have and to hold, and, in time--let go.

Talk happiness. The world is sad enough without your woe. No path is wholly rough.

So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.

And so for me there is no sting of death, And so the grave has lost its victory. It is but crossing-with abated breath And white, set face-a little strip of sea To find the loved ones waiting on the shore, More beautiful, more precious than before.

And let its meaning permeate each day. Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.