  The rough way, the hard way, The way that seems so long! Yet still the sweet and happy way Across the fields of song! The sad way, the dark way, The way that leads above; And still the bright and golden way Across the fields of love! The love way, the song way, The way we gladly go,— The way of blossoms sweet and fair And all the dreams we know! What the world may think of a man is of small consequence either to him or the world; but what he thinks of himself is of infinite and imperishable importance to all the realms of creation. |
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