Whatever is... is best.

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.

Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of Love As radiant and brilliant as a star. As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar Which glorifies vast worlds of space above.

Feast, and your halls are crowded Fast, and the world goes by Succeed and give, and it helps you live But no man can help you die

Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.

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.

Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear, your head like the golden rod, and we will go sailing away from here to the beautiful Land Of Nod.