Every cloud engenders not a storm

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurour and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!

This world to me is like a lasting storm,Whirring me from my friends.

Tones that sound, and roar and storm about me until I have set them down in notes.

The worst is not,So long as we can say, "This is the worst."

Things may serve long, but not serve ever.