Those who hate to go to bed fear death; those who hate to get up fear life.

When one looks into the window of a store which sells devotional art objects, one can't help wishing the iconoclasts had won.

To discover how to be human now is the reason we follow this star.

The nightingales are sobbing in The orchards of our mothers, And hearts that we broke long ago Have long been breaking others; Tears are round, the sea is deep: Roll them overboard and sleep.

Warm are the still and lucky miles, White shores of longing stretch away, A light of recognition fills The whole great day, and bright The tiny world of lovers' arms. Silence invades the breathing wood Where drowsy limbs a treasure keep, Now greenly falls the learned shade Across the sleeping brows And stirs their secret to a smile. Restored! Returned! The lost are borne On seas of shipwreck home at last: See! In a fire of praising burns The dry dumb past, and we Our life-day long shall part no more.

Dance, dance, dance till you drop.

Time will say nothing but I told you so.