Let not the rash marble riskgarrulous breaches of oblivion’s omnipotence,in many words recallingname, renown, events, birthplace.All those glass jewels are best left in the dark.Let not the marble say what men do not.The essentials of...
Aging is a mortal term that my immortal spirit doesn’t quite grasp.
What is life without death, Beneficent? You of all people can answer that question. A never-ending orgy of emptiness that you stuff with meaningless activity. Everything is disposable, including your relationships–especially your your relationships.
It’s probably a merciful thing that pain is impossible to describe from memory
Here, Mortimer Wheeler thought, is power. And a reminder of our mortality.
It is when we are faced with death that we turn most bookish.
As for man, his days are numbered, whatever he might do, it is but wind.