Our Wills Are Ours, To Make Them

Soon You Will Have Forgotten The World, And Soon The World Will Have Forgotten You.

Death Hangs Over Thee, While Thou Still Live, While Thou May, Do Good.

All That Is Harmony For You, My Universe, Is In Harmony With Me As Well. Nothing That Comes At The Right Time For You Is Too Early Or Too Late For Me. Everything Is Fruit To Me That Your Seasons Bring, Nature. All Things Come Of You, Have Their Being In You, And Return To You.

Everything Is Interwoven, And The Web Is Holy.

The Passing Minute Is Every Man's Equal Possession But What Has Once Gone By Is Not Ours.