Without The Hope Of Posterity, For Our Race If Not For Ourselves, Without The Assurance That We Being Dead Yet Live, All Pleasures Of The Mind And Senses Sometimes Seem To Me No More Than Pathetic And Crumbling Defences Shored Up Against Our Ruin.
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Without The Hope Of Posterity, For Our
Without The Hope Of Posterity, For Our Race If Not For Ourselves, Without The Assurance That We Being Dead Yet Live, All Pleasures Of The Mind And Senses Sometimes Seem To Me No More Than Pathetic And Crumbling Defences Shored Up Against Our Ruin.
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