History is the transformation of tumultuous conquerors into silent footnotes.
In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled.
Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
To have lived long does not necessarily imply the gathering of much wisdom and experience. One who has pedaled twenty-five thousand miles on a stationary bicycle has not circled the globe. He or she has only garnered weariness.
We mourn the transitory things and fret under the yoke of the immutable ones.