Though Sages May Pour Out Their Wisdom's

I Have Always Believed That All Things Depended Upon Fortune, And Nothing Upon Ourselves.

This Quiet Sail Is As A Noiseless Wing To Waft Me From Distraction.

Books, Manuals, Directives, Regulations. The Geometries That Circumscribe Your Working Life Draw Norrower And Norrower Until Nothing Fits Inside Them Anymore.

A Sleep Without Dreams, After A Rough Day Of Toil, Is What We Covet Most; And Yet How Clay Shrinks Back From More Quiescent Clay! The Very Suicide That Pays His Debt At Once Without Installments (an Old Way Of Paying Debts, Which Creditors Regret) Lets Out Impatiently His Rushing Breath, Less From Disgust Of Life Than Dread Of Death.

Then Farewell, Horace; Whom I Hated So, Not For Thy Faults, But Mine.