Everything Is Mere Opinion.

A Lucky Chance Is Constant In Nothing But Inconstancy.

Consider In What Condition Both In Body And Soul A Man Should Be When He Is Overtaken By Death; And Consider The Shortness Of Life, The Boundless Abyss Of Time Past And Future, The Feebleness Of All Matter.

A Man Makes No Noise Over A Good Deed, But Passes On To Another As A Vine To Bear Grapes Again In Season.

Either An Ordered Universe Or A Medley Heaped Together Mechanically But Still An Order; Or Can Order Subsist In You And Disorder In The Whole! And That, Too, When All Things Are So Distinguished And Yet Intermingled And Sympathetic.

Everything Is Here For A Purpose, From Horses To Vine Shoots. What's Surprising About That? Even The Sun Will Tell You, "i Have A Purpose," And The Other Goods As Well.