I Think We Must Get Rid Of

To Live The Greatest Number Of Good Hours Is Wisdom.

Was Never Secret History But Birds Tell It In The Bowers.

A Man Must Consider What A Blindman's-buff Is This Game Of Conformity.

I Pack My Trunk, Embrace My Friends, Embark On The Sea And At Last Wake Up In Naples, And There Beside Me Is The Stern Fact, The Sad Self, Unrelenting, Identical, That I Fled From.

For Each New Morning With Its Light, For Rest And Shelter Of The Night, For Health And Food, For Love And Friends, For Everything Thy Goodness Sends.