Life said: “My house is thine with all its store:
Behold I open shining ways to thee-
Of every inner portal make thee free:
O child, I may not bar the outer door. ...
Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
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