He Who Is Content With What Has

I Cannot Remember How I Felt When The Light Went Out Of My Eyes. I Suppose I Felt It Was Always Night And Perhaps I Wondered Why The Day Did Not Come.

It Is Wonderful How Much Time Good People Spend Fighting The Devil. If They Would Only Expend The Same Amount Of Energy Loving Their Fellow Men, The Devil Would Die In His Own Tracks Of Ennui.

Sometimes, It Is True, A Sense Of Isolation Enfolds Me Like A Cold Mist As I Sit Alone And Wait At Life’s Shut Gate. Beyond There Is Light, And Music, And Sweet Companionship; But I May Not Enter. Fate, Silent, Pitiless, Bars The Way…silence Sits Immense Upon My Soul. Then Comes Hope With A Smile And Whispers, ‘there Is Joy Is Self-forgetfulness.’ So I Try To Make The Light In Others’ Eyes My Sun, The Music In Others; Ears My Symphony, The Smile On Others’ Lips My Happiness.

We Differ, Blind And Seeing, One From Another, Not In Our Senses, But In The Use We Make Of Them, In The Imagination And Courage With Which We Seek Wisdom Beyond All Senses.

The Country Is Governed For The Richest, For The Corporations, The Bankers, The Land Speculators, And For The Exploiters Of Labor.