Autumn
A touch of cold in the Autumn night —
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.
Duties are ours; events are God's. This removes an infinite burden from the shoulders of a miserable, tempted, dying creature.…
You can't change anything by fighting or resisting it. You change something by making it obsolete through superior methods.
Only mediocre people are always at their best.