You may drive out nature with a pitchfork, yet she'll be constantly running back.
Aiming at brevity, I become obscure.
You traverse the world in search of happiness which is within the reach of every man. A contented mind confers it on all.
An envious man grows lean at another's fatness.
When I struggle to be terse, I end by being obscure.
I have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.