This is my grave of destiny here must I ever lie. The path I’ve trod through all my life has ended so let me die. All my life I’ve wondered just when my turn would come. And with a very honest hope my destiny is won But if I’ve won no one will know And all should wonder why A man as good and kind as I should really have to die.
but the money that is spared on my memory suppresses my memory in posterity, and that which I fail to achieve in my life for my memory will not be made good by you or any other after my death —Maximilian I
The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what Has passed away Or what is yet to be. Ah the wars they will Be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again Bought and sold And bought again The dove is never free. Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in. —Leonard Cohen
