Those things that are in the light we behold from darkness.
Yet a little while, and (the happy hour) will be over, nor ever more shall we be able to recall it.
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?
Tis pleasant to stand on shore and watch others labouring in a stormy sea.
How is it that the sky feeds the stars?
Nothing can be created out of nothing.