Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?

The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's Is ? not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be ? but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means.

Of power does Man possess no particle: Of knowledge-just so much as show that still It ends in ignorance on every side.

That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it.

We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.

Sing, riding 's a joy! For me I ride.

One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.