I would rather have fifteen years of calm than fifteen minutes of fame.
I would rather be an aged oak standing firm upon the ground than the rush of many saplings that are scattered all around.
I stand against the axmen with ambition to cut me down.
He hacks against my sinew well knowing I am bound.
I would rather be a mocking bird dancing on the wing, for my stage is not ambition and I truly like to sing.
So there you have the mighty oak with a bird to dance its crown.
Laughing at ambition for none could cut him down.
Savor the day and slow down.
Life is long if you choose.
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