Man Does Not Understand Nor Accept Immortality

In Every Cradle Decked With Rosy Wreath Lurk Germs Of Death.

Progress Is Not Accomplished In One Stage.

Humanity Is Our Common Lot. All Men Are Made Of The Same Clay. There Is No Difference, At Least Here On Earth, In The Fate Assigned To Us. We Come Of The Same Void, Inhabit The Same Flesh, Are Dissolved In The Same Ashes. But Ignorance Infecting The Human Substance Turns It Black, And That Incurable Blackness, Gaining Possession Of The Soul, Becomes Evil.

When Two Mouths, Made Sacred By Love, Draw Near To Each Other To Create, It Is Impossible, That Above That Ineffable Kiss There Should Not Be A Thrill In The Immense Mystery Of The Stars.

Man Does Not Understand Nor Accept Immortality Except On Condition Of Self-remembrance.