Snow Endures But For A Season, And

Pray Look Upon The Plants And Birds, The Ants, Spiders, And Bees, And You Will See Them All Exerting Their Nature, And Busy In Their Station. Pray, Shall Not A Man Act Like A Man?

The Healthy Eye Ought To See All Visible Things And Not To Say, I Wish For Green Things; For This Is The Condition Of A Diseased Eye.

Short-lived Are Both The Praiser And The Praised, And Rememberer And The Remembered: And All This In A Nook Of This Part Of The World; And Not Even Here Do All Agree, No, Not Any One With Himself: And The Whole Earth Too Is A Point.

He Who Eats My Bread, Does My Will.

In The Life Of A Man, His Time Is But A Moment, His Being An Incessant Flux, His Sense A Dim Rushlight, His Body A Prey Of Worms, His Soul An Unquiet Eddy, His Fortune Dark, His Fame Doubtful. In Short, All That Is Body Is As Coursing Waters, All That Is Of The Soul As Dreams And Vapors.