The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

The secret must be kept from all non-people. The mystery must be hidden from all idiots.

The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!

The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help-for it As impotently moves as you or I

You've seen the world, and all you've seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that you have said and heard is nothing. You've sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions you've treasured up at home are nothing.

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.