the Solitary

by Percy Shelley 

Dar’st thou amid the varied multitude

To live alone, an isolated thing?

To see the busy beings round thee spring,

And care for none; in thy calm solitude,

A flower that scarce breathes in the desert rude

To Zephyr’s passing wing?

This poem exactly describes what kind of person I want to be, and every day I’m requiring myself to live in this way, as a flower that scarcely breathes in the desert.