I Strove With None; For

We Are No Longer Happy So Soon As We Wish To Be Happier.

In The Hours Of Distress And Misery, The Eyes Of Every Mortal Turn To Friendship; In The Hours Of Gladness And Conviviality, What Is Our Want? It Is Friendship. When The Heart Overflows With Gratitude, Or With Any Other Sweet Or Sacred Sentiment, What Is The Word To Which It Would Give Utterance? A Friend.

Every Sect Is A Moral Check On Its Neighbour. Competition Is As Wholesome In Religion As In Commerce.

There Is Delight In Singing, Though None Hear Beside The Singer.

I Strove With None, For None Was Worth My Strife. Nature I Loved And, Next To Nature, Art: I Warm'd Both Hands Before The Fire Of Life; It Sinks, And I Am Ready To Depart.