Do We Not All Spend

The Dog Who Meets With A Good Master Is The Happier Of The Two.

Once At A Potent Leader's Voice I Stayed; Once I Went Back When A Good Monarch Prayed; Mortals, Howe'er We Grieve, Howe'er Deplore, The Flying Shadow Will Return No More.

We Are Never The Same With Others As When We Are Alone. We Are Different, Even When We Are In The Dark With Them.

As Soon As We Put Something Into Words, We Devalue It In A Strange Way. We Think We Have Plunged Into The Depths Of The Abyss, And When We Return To The Surface The Drop Of Water On Our Pale Fingertips No Longer Resembles The Sea From Which It Comes. We Delude Ourselves That We Have Discovered A Wonderful Treasure Trove, And When We Return To The Light Of Day We Find That We Have Brought Back Only False Stones And Shards Of Glass; And Yet The Treasure Goes On Glimmering In The Dark, Unaltered.

Sacrifice May Be A Flower That Virtue Will Pluck On Its Road, But It Was Not To Gather This Flower That Virtue Set Forth On Its Travels.