It was my first meeting with a philosophy that confirmed my vague speculations and seemed at once logical and boundless.

Time can but make her beauty over again.

Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.

Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?

I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'

Sometimes my feet are tired and my hands are quiet, but there is no quiet in my heart.

Because I helped to wind the clock, I come to hear it strike.