Let your bookcases and your shelves be your gardens and your pleasure-grounds. Pluck the fruit that grows therein, gather the roses, the spices, and the myrrh.
Judah Ibn Tibbon
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Hindsight
Three wasted years, standing still
As you opened up, 18 miles wide
On this country drive
I can't keep up
Cause you're so far gone
And it's all too much hindsight
Three wasted years, wasting time
As the hunger pains grow inside
I can't keep up
Cause you're so far gone
And it's all too much hindsight