At thirty, man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty, chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve,
In all the magnanimity of thought;
Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same.
And why? because he thinks himself immortal,
All men think all men mortal but themselves.
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Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:--
We are as they;
read more
Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:--
We are as they;
Like them we fade away
As doth a leaf.
Life in a box is better than no life at all ... I expect.
Life in a box is better than no life at all ... I expect.
Belief in our mortality, the sense that we are eventually going to crack up and be extinguished like the flame read more
Belief in our mortality, the sense that we are eventually going to crack up and be extinguished like the flame of a candle, I say, is a gloriously fine thing. It makes us sober; it makes us a little sad; and many of us it makes poetic. But above all,
"O Charidas, what of the underworld?"
"Great darkness."
"And what of the resurrection?"
"A read more
"O Charidas, what of the underworld?"
"Great darkness."
"And what of the resurrection?"
"A lie."
"And Pluto?"
"A fable; we perish utterly."
That flesh is but the glasse, which holds the dust
That measures all our time; which also shall
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That flesh is but the glasse, which holds the dust
That measures all our time; which also shall
Be crumbled into dust.
The immortal could we cease to contemplate,
The mortal part suggests its every trait.
God laid His read more
The immortal could we cease to contemplate,
The mortal part suggests its every trait.
God laid His fingers on the ivories
Of her pure members as on smoothed keys,
And there out-breathed her spirit's harmonies.
This is the spot where I am mortal.
[Ger., Hier ist die Stelle wo ich sterblich bin.]
This is the spot where I am mortal.
[Ger., Hier ist die Stelle wo ich sterblich bin.]
To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body; no
less are thoughts of mortality read more
To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body; no
less are thoughts of mortality cordial to the soul.
Death is that "Tomorrow" for which all our lives are spent waiting!Man is constantly building the "Image."It is an Edifice read more
Death is that "Tomorrow" for which all our lives are spent waiting!Man is constantly building the "Image."It is an Edifice for the entombment of bones!Best to "Realize" the temporal nature of thingsand simply "Do and Die!
