Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends them all! Not for such hopes and fears Annulling youth's brief years, Do I remonstrate: folly wide the mark! Rather I prize the doubt Low kinds exist without, Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark. Poor vaunt of life indeed, Were man but formed to feed On joy, to solely seek and find and feast; Such feasting ended, then As sure an end to men.

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made: Our times are in his hand Who saith, 'A whole I planned, Youth s…

Let us cry, 'All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!'

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, The superstitious atheist.

Inde fit ut raro, qui se vixisse beatum dicat et exacto contentus tempore vita cedat uti conviva satur, reperire queamus.

I don't know what God is, or what God had in mind when the universe was set in motion. In fact, I don't know if God even exists, although I confess that I some…

This Life is a fleeting breath, And whither and how shall I go, When I wander away with Death By a path that I do not know?