Fools, your reward is neither here nor there.
A hair divides what is false and true.
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.
The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.
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