"This life is a war we are not yet winning for our daughters' children. Don't do your enemies' work for them. Finish your own."

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Spring, of all seasons most gratuitous, Is fold of untaught flower, is race of water, Is earth's most multiple, excited daughter; And those she has least use for see her best, Their paths grown craven and circuitous, Their visions mountain-clear, their needs immodest.

— Philip Larkin