Yesterday is but to-day’s memory and to-morrow is to-day’s dream.

Life is but a sleep disturbed By dreaming

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,

Pleasure is a freedom-song,But it is not freedom.It is the blossoming of your desires,But it is not their fruit.It is a depth calling unto a height,But it is not the deep nor the high.It is the caged taking wing,But it is not space encompassed.Aye, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song.And I fain would have you sing it with fullness of heart; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in the singing.

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

Life kisses our faces every morning. Yet, between morning and evening, she laughs at our sorrows.

Accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;

You were born together, and together you shall be for evermore.You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.