Still The Mind Smiles At Its Own

The World's In A Bad Way, My Man, And Bound To Be Worse Before It Mends; Better Lie Up In The Mountain Here Four Or Five Centuries, While The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean.

The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are Beautiful Beyond All Grace Of Youth.

I've Changed My Ways A Little, I Cannot Now Run With You In The Evenings Along The Shore, Except In A Kind Of Dream, And You, If You Dream A Moment, You See Me There.

Nature Knows That People Are A Tide That Swells And In Time Will Ebb, And All Their Works Dissolve ... As For Us: We Must Uncenter Our Minds From Ourselves. We Must Unhumanize Our Views A Little And Become Confident As The Rock And Ocean That We Are Made From.

Does It Matter Whether You Hate Yourself? At Least Love Your Eyes That Can See, Your Mind That Can Hear The Music, The Thunder Of The Wings.