Sleeping we imagine what awake we wish; D ogs dream of bones, and fishermen of fish.
Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to me the muse and song.
Now begins a torrent of words and a trickling of sense.
Verily, great grace may go with a little gift; and precious are all things that come from friends.
Even a little gift may be vast with loving kindness.
Trying will do anything in this world.