Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all, -- There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.
If you float that river down to the sea, you will know long days of peaceful drifting, but also rocks and rage, oh so bone-soaked.
You will be thrown from the craft, clinging -- trying to get back on to right your raft. You will find yourself in an endless sea -- connected to all others.
There once was a purveyor of fine cheese who liked 'em runny and stinky as you please. Limburger and Camembert hung pungent in the air. He built a drive-thru, snarky patrons, to appease.
From one thousand mountains, birds have vanished. Over ten-thousand paths, not one footprint. A lone boat, an old man in coarse cloak and hat: Just he, fishing in the cold, river snow.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 