Looking at the hands of the time we've been given If this is all we got and we gotta start thinking If every second counts on a clock that's ticking Gotta live like we're dying...
These were autumn mornings, the time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. — Rabindranath Tagore, The Cabuliwallah
