My Small Boat
Man please thy maker and be merry set not for this world a cherry.
Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.
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Sailing To Byzantium That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees…
I can plod. I can persevere in any definite pursuit. To this I owe everything.
There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.