How Shall The Soul Of

Work For Your Own Soul's Sake.

What Is This I Hear Of Sorrow And Weariness, Anger, Discontent And Drooping Hopes? Degenerate Sons And Daughters, Life Is Too Strong For You— It Takes Life To Love Life.

The Dust's For Crawling, Heaven's For Flying, Wherefore, O Soul, Whose Wings Are Grown, Soar Upward To The Sun!

To Put Meaning In One's Life May End In Madness, But Life Without Meaning Is The Torture Of Restlessness And Vague Desire-it Is A Boat Longing For The Sea And Yet Afraid.

And I Never Started To Plow In My Life That Some One Did Not Stop In The Road And Take Me Away To A Dance Or Picnic. I Ended Up With Forty Acres; I Ended Up With A Broken Fiddle— And A Broken Laugh, And A Thousand Memories, And Not A Single Regret.