He Who Has One Enemy Shall Meet

We Are In Truth But Pieces On This Chess Board Of Life, Which In The End We Leave, Only To Drop One By One Into The Grave Of Nothingness.

A Loaf Of Bread, A Jug Of Wine, And Thou.

The Revelations Of Devout And Learn'd Who Rose Before Us, And As Prophets Burn'd, Are All But Stories, Which, Awoke From Sleep They Told Their Comrades, And To Sleep Return'd.

Yes, The First Morning Of Creation Wrote What The Last Dawn Of Reckoning Shall Read.

To-day Is Thine To Spend, But Not To-morrow; Counting On Morrows Breedeth Bankrupt Sorrow: O Squander Not This Breath That Heaven Hath Lent Thee; Make Not Too Sure Another Breath To Borrow.