Look Thy Last On All

What Is The World, O Soldiers? It Is I, I, This Incessant Snow, This Northern Sky.

As Soon As They're Out Of Your Sight, You Are Out Of Their Mind.

The Only Catalogue Of This World's Goods That Really Counts Is That Which We Keep In The Silence Of The Mind.

Too Late For Fruit, Too Soon For Flowers.

What A Haunting, Inescapable Riddle Life Was.