Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. - T. S. Eliot

Datta, dayadhvam, damyata
(Give, sympathize, control)

You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,
And how, how rare and strange it is, to find
In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,
(For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind! How keen you are!)
To find a friend who has these qualities,
Who has, and gives
Those qualities upon which friendship lives.
How much it means that I say this to you-
Without these friendships-life, what cauchemar!

Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.