The habit of giving only enhances the desire to give.
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space.
So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road.
Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines.
Resist much, obey little.