But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?

Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.

The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.

That each from other differs, first confess; next that he varies from himself no less.

How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

When we are young, we are slavishly employed in procuring something whereby we may live comfortably when we grow old; and when we are old, we perceive it is too late to live as we proposed.