On me, on me Time and change can heap no more! The painful past with blighting grief Hath left my heart a withered leaf. Time and change can do no more.

Far out at sea,--the sun was high, While veer'd the wind and flapped the sail, We saw a snow-white butterfly Dancing before the fitful gale, Far out at sea.

Ye rigid Ploughman! bear in mind Your labor is for future hours. Advance! spare not! nor look behind! Plough deep and straight with all your powers!

The whole point of crying was to quit before you cornied it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted, let yourself go and you started embellishing your own sobs.

On grief. We know where we've been. We know where we want to be.

Grief, we know where we've been. We know where we want to be.