A butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.
In death the many become one; in life the one become many.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free.
Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims
We cross infinity with every step; we meet eternity in every second.
My fancies are fireflies Specks of living light twinkling in the dark.