You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.
On Fields O'er Which the Reaper's Hand has Passed
by Henry David Thoreau
On fields o'er which the reaper's hand has pass'd
Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,
My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind
And of such fineness as October airs,
There after harvest could I glean my life
A richer harvest reaping without toil,
And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will
In subtler webs than finest summer haze.