The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.
How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.
Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.