The Wanderlust Has Got Me... By The

I Have No Doubts That The Devil Grins, As Seas Of Ink I Spatter. Ye Gods, Forgive My “literary” Sins – The Other Kind Don’t Matter.

Be Master Of Your Petty Annoyances And Conserve Your Energies For The Big, Worthwhile Things. It Isn't The Mountain Ahead That Wears You Out - It's The Grain Of Sand In Your Shoe.

And Each Forgets, As He Strips And Runs With A Brilliant, Fitful Pace, It's The Steady, Quiet, Plodding Ones Who Win In The Lifelong Race. And Each Forgets That His Youth Has Fled, Forgets That His Prime Is Past, Till He Stands One Day, With A Hope That's Dead, In The Glare Of The Truth At Last.

Just Draw On Your Grit; It's So Easy To Quit - It's The Keeping Your Chin Up That's Hard.

Then You've A Hunch What The Music Meant . . . Hunger And Night And The Stars.