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I strove with none, for none was worth my strife: Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art:
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Kindness in ourselves is the honey that blunts the sting of unkindness in another.
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Death stands above me, whispering low I know not what into my ear;
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Heat and animosity, contest and conflict, may sharpen the wits, although they rarely do; they never strengthen the understanding, clear the perspicacity, guide the judgment, or improve the heart.
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I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
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