Ah! The Clock Is Always Slow; It

It Isn't The Mountain Ahead That Wears You Out; It's The Grain Of Sand In Your Shoe.

Now A Promise Made Is A Debt Unpaid, And The Trail Has Its Own Stern Code.

And Each Forgets, As He Strips And Runs With A Brilliant, Fitful Pace, It's The Steady, Quiet, Plodding Ones Who Win In The Lifelong Race. And Each Forgets That His Youth Has Fled, Forgets That His Prime Is Past, Till He Stands One Day, With A Hope That's Dead, In The Glare Of The Truth At Last.

I Have An Intense Dislike For Artificial Society. In France, One Could Lead A Free Life - To Do What One Wanted To Do Without Interference Or Criticism From One's Neighbors.

Even Goats May Have Starlight In Their Eyes.