when I - that is to say the motive force - amble up to the problem of life me gives way to featureless strife thus I fall of course of course Mr. Death and the devil's carnation hum that I must find style sing a better song and produce, make haste, deliver the goods and I see it in the eyes of the passers, by and by who are we to waste our end on a middle that is dishonest, unmeasured, and bound to those we dislike where can effort fail well, we ask ourselves and each other to fall onto the way it ought to be with every step downhill letting the sun make our growth but only as much as we need hearing the monks say: you've been seeing and not hearing us for thousands of years, and now it's time you spent your attention on that which won't ask you to try