Shall I Tell You The Secret Of

Postpone Not Your Life.

Now Every One Must Do After His Kind, Be He Asp Or Angel, And These Must.

Even In The Mud And Scum Of Things, Something Always, Always Sings.

But Man Postpones Or Remembers; He Does Not Live In The Present, But With Reverted Eye Laments The Past, Or, Heedless Of The Riches That Surround Him, Stands On Tiptoe To Foresee The Future. He Cannot Be Happy And Strong Until He Too Lives With Nature In The Present, Above Time.

Within, I Do Not Find Wrinkles And Used Heart, But Unspent Youth.