So die as though your funeral Ushered you through the doors that led Into a stately banquet hall Where heroes banqueted.

But I've a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous.

From a boy I gloated on existence. Earth to me Seemed all-sufficient and my sojourn there One trembling opportunity for joy.

I have a rendezvous with death... I will not fail that rendezvous

At Earth's great market where Joy is trafficked in, Buy while thy purse yet swells with golden Youth.

Spirit of Beauty, whose sweet impulses, flung like rose of dawn across the sea, alone can flush the exalted consciousness with shafts of sensible divinity-light of the world, essential loveliness.

You (must) do plenty of ‘pratikraman’. Do the ‘pratikraman’ for an hour every day of everyone who is living around you, whomever you have harassed.

Certain things need not be said, and there’s nothing, not a whisper, prayer, not a sacrifice, not a payment of any price, that would change what’s about to happen.

What is uttered from the heart alone, Will win the hearts of others to your own.

There are days when I can hear men tying their shoe laces in the gallery.

It’s amazing how lovely common things become, if one only knows how to look at them.

Everybody is excited to play so I think who plays with whom is a minor thing at this point.

[People] know what [Donald] Trump wants. They are fascinated with the idea, "Can Trump really get this?" Because Trump, there's nothing professional about him.

One of the more dispiriting things I think about endless touring is hearing the same piece of music over and over again and I end up feeling like a fraud.

My routine actually stays pretty simple and consistent. Every morning I use the X-Out Wash-In Treatment with warm water in the shower. I towel dry my face, apply a moisturizer-sunscreen, and go!