It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind,

I Have Seen Flowers Come In Stony Places And Kind Things Done By Men With Ugly Faces, And The Gold Cup Won By The Worst Horse At The Races, So I Trust, Too.

Most Roads Lead Men Homewards, My Road Leads Me Forth

What Am I, Life? A Thing Of Watery Salt Held In Cohesion By Unresting Cells, Which Work They Know Not Why, Which Never Halt, Myself Unwitting Where Their Master Dwells?

All I Ask Is A Tall Ship And A Star To Sail Her By.

Man's Body Is Faulty, His Mind Untrustworthy, But His Imagination Has Made Him Remarkable.