How Convalescence Shrinks A Man Back To

Our Spirits Grow Gray Before Our Hairs.

This World Is All A Fleeting Show, For Man's Illusion Given The Smiles Of Joy, The Tears Of Woe, Deceitful Shine, Deceitful Flow, Theres Nothing True But Heaven.

Man, While He Loves, Is Never Quite Depraved.

Can We Ring The Bells Backward? Can We Unlearn The Arts That Pretend To Civilize, And Then Burn The World? There Is A March Of Science; But Who Shall Beat The Drums For Its Retreat?

New Year's Day Is Every Man's Birthday.