We Consume Our Tomorrows Fretting About Our

Out Of Nothing Can Come, And Nothing Can Become Nothing.

And Don't Consult Anyone's Opinions But Your Own.

For Yesterday Was Once To-morrow.

Please Not Thyself The Flattering Crowd To Hear; 'tis Fulsome Stuff, To Please Thy Itching Ear. Survey Thy Soul, Not What Thou Does Appear, But What Thou Art.

We Consume Our Tomorrows Fretting About Our Yesterdays.