Thus the sum of things is ever being reviewed, and mortals dependent one upon another. Some nations increase, others diminish, and in a short space the generations of living creatures are changed and like runners pass on the torch of life.

Continual dropping wears away a stone.

I return to the newborn world, and the soft-soil fields, What their first birthing lifted to the shores Of light, and trusted to the wayward winds. First the Earth gave the shimmer of greenery And grasses to deck the hills; then over the meadows The flowering fields are bright with the color of springtime, And for all the trees that shoot into the air.

It is pleasurable, when winds disturb the waves of a great sea, to gaze out from land upon the great trials of another.

It is pleasant, when the sea is high and the winds are dashing the waves about, to watch from the shores the struggles of another.

Life is one long struggle in the dark.

Do we not see all humans unaware Of what they want, and always searching everywhere, And changing place, as if to drop the load they bear?