Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
And knows that yesterday is but to-day’s memory and to-morrow is to-day’s dream.
How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
What of the old serpent who cannot shed his skin, and calls all others naked and shameless?
Work is love made visible.
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
But I say to you that when you work you fulfill a part of earth’s furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors’.
