"I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;/
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams...“ W.B. Yeats.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Mirth
Mirth is God's medicine. Everybody ought to bathe in it. Grim care, moroseness, anxiety, - all this rust of life, ought to be scoured off by the oil of mirth. It is better than emery. Every man ought to rub himself with it.