Ambition's Cradle Oftenest Is Its Grave

The Grave Itself Is But A Covered Bridge, Leading From Light To Light, Through A Brief Darkness!

Silence And Solitude, The Soul's Best Friends.

Where, Twisted Round The Barren Oak, The Summer Vine In Beauty Clung, And Summer Winds The Stillness Broke, The Crystal Icicle Is Hung.

The First Pressure Of Sorrow Crushes Out From Our Hearts The Best Wine; Afterwards The Constant Weight Of It Brings Forth Bitterness, The Taste And Stain From The Lees Of The Vat.

The Story, From Beginning To End, I Found Again In A Heart Of A Friend.