Fuss Is The Froth Of

My Tears Must Stop, For Every Drop Hinders Needle And Thread.

What Is Mind? No Matter. What Is Matter? Never Mind. What Is The Soul? It Is Immaterial.

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright And Yellow, Hard And Cold!

Fuss Is The Froth Of Business.

No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope, But Only Time For Grief.