An interesting excerpt from Oscar Wilde's "The Ballad of Reading Gaol"
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By all let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword
Do we let the sand trickle away, not ever realizing its warmth in our hands, till it's gone?
Before long,
leaves fall,
colors fade,
and summer is
gone with the winds
of time.
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