When work becomes play, and play becomes your work, your life unfolds.

The only way round is through.

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.

Live life like its the last breath you take for that breath is the whole essence of living, the little things in life are what connects us to all the big things we live for

The chance is the remotest, Of its going much longer unnoticed, That I'm not keeping pace With the headlong human race

There never was any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate.

There is the fear that we shan't prove worthy in the eyes of someone who knows us at least as well as we know ourselves. That is the fear of God. And there is the fear of Man -fear that men won't understand us and we shall be cut of from them.