When Life Does Not Find A Singer

Let Me, O Let Me Bathe My Soul In Colours; Let Me Swallow The Sunset And Drink The Rainbow.

They Deem Me Mad Because I Will Not Sell My Days For Gold; And I Deem Them Mad Because They Think My Days Have A Price.

A Traveller I Am, And A Navigator, And Everyday I Discover A New Region Within My Soul.

Youth Is A Beautiful Dream, On Whose Brightness Books Shed A Blinding Dust. Will Ever The Day Come When The Wise Link The Joy Of Knowledge To Youth's Dream? Will Ever The Day Come When Nature Becomes The Teacher Of Man, Humanity His Book And Life His School? Youth's Joyous Purpose Cannot Be Fulfilled Until That Day Comes. Too Slow Is Our March Toward Spiritual Elevation, Because We Make So Little Use Of Youth's Ardor.

The Most Pitiful Among Men Is He Who Turns His Dreams Into Silver And Gold.