Poems on Man

Man goes into the noisy crowd
to drown his own clamour of silence.
Man is immortal; therefore he must die endlessly.
For life is a creative idea;
it can only find itself in changing forms.
Man’s abiding happiness is not in getting anything
but in giving himself up to what is greater than himself,
to ideas which are larger than his individual life,
the idea of his country,
of humanity,
of God.

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