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.

I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.

How happy they are, in all seeming, How gay, or how smilingly proud, How brightly their faces are beaming, These people who make up the crowd!

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.

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

Give her not greatness. For great souls must stand Alone and lonely in this little world: Cleft rocks that show the great Creator's hand, Thither by earthquakes hurled.

There is new strength, repose of mind, and inspiration in fresh apparel.