It Is The Heart That

Childhood Has Its Secrets And Its Mysteries; But Who Can Tell Or Who Can Explain Them!

And Then When All Around Grows Dark, When We Feel Utterly Alone, When All Men Right And Left Pass Us By And Know Us Not, A Forgotten Feeling Rises In The Breast.

That Deed Is Not Well Done Of Which A Man Must Repent, And The Reward Of Which He Receives Crying And With A Tearful Face.

What Ought To Be Done Is Neglected, What Ought Not To Be Done Is Done; The Desires Of Unruly, Thoughtless People Are Always Increasing.

He Who, Though Dressed In Fine Apparel, Exercises Tranquillity, Is Quiet, Subdued, Restrained, Chaste, And Has Ceased To Find Fault With All Other Beings, He Indeed Is An Ascetic.