The Thoughtful Soul To Solitude Retires.

If I Don't Enjoy Myself Now, When Shall I?

This Clay, So Strong Of Heart, Of Sense So Fine,surely Such Clay Is More Than Half Divine--'tis Only Fools Speak Evil Of The Clay,the Very Stars Are Made Of Clay Like Mine.

There Was A Door To Which I Found No Key: There Was The Veil Through Which I Might Not See.

I Have Not Asked For Life. But I Try To Accept Whatever Life Brings Without Surprise. And I Shall Depart Again Without Having Questioned Anyone About My Strange Stay Here On Earth.

Wake! For The Sun, Who Scatter'd Into Flight The Stars Before Him From The Field Of Night, Drives Night Along With Them From Heav'n, And Strikes The Sultan's Turret With A Shaft Of Light