Don't ask me how I am! I understand nothing more!

And the Top spoke no more of his old love; for that dies away when the beloved objects has lain for five years in a roof gutter and got wet through; yes, one does not know her again when one meets her in the dust box.

To move, to breathe, to fly, to float, To gain all while you give, To roam the roads of lands remote, To travel is to live.

Don't ask me how I am! I understand nothing more!

When the bird of the heart begins to sing, too often will reason stop up her ears.

The wiser a man becomes, the more he will read, and those who are wisest read most.

Most of the people who will walk after me will be children, so make the beat keep time with short steps.