For we are helpless pieces of the game He plays Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
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"For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watched the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd—'Gently, Brother, gently, pray!'"
"Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain—This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies."
"Better to be intoxicated with wine than with the vain hopes of this world."
"The wise man is he who enjoys the present, for the future is uncertain and the past is gone."
"And still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, And still a Garden by the Water builds: Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!"
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