And thus we all are nighing The truth we fear to know: Death will end our crying For friends that come and go.
He knows much of what men paint themselves would blister in the light of what they are.
I am not one Who must have everything, yet I must have My dreams if I must live, for they are mine. Wisdom is not one word and then another, Till words are like dry leaves under a tree; Wisdom is like a dawn that comes up slowly Out of an unknown ocean.
Love must have wings to fly away from love, And to fly back again.
Life is the game that must be played: This truth at least, good friends, we know; So live and laugh, nor be dismayed As one by one the phantoms go.
