The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat. -Lily Tomlin

 The stormy March has come at last,

With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies...
For thou, to northern lands again,
The glad and glorious sun dost bring,
And thou hast joined the gentle train
And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
~William Cullen Bryant