My Friend, Let's Not Think

This Body Is A Tent Which For A Space Does The Pure Soul With Kingly Presence Grace; When He Departs, Comes The Tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes It, And Moves To A New Halting-place.

Heaven Has Not Learned Of My Arrival, And My Departure Will Not In The Least Diminish It Beauty And Grandeur. I Will Sleep Underground, For Us Ephemeral Mortals, The Only Eternity Is The Moment And Drinking To The Moment Is Better Than Weeping For It.

By The Help Of God And With His Precious Assistance, I Say That Algebra Is A Scientific Art. The Objects With Which It Deals Are Absolute Numbers And Measurable Quantities Which, Though Themselves Unknown, Are Related To "things" Which Are Known, Whereby The Determination Of The Unknown Quantities Is Possible.

My Friend, Let's Not Think Of Tomorrow, But Let's Enjoy This Fleeting Moment Of Life.

When You Are So Full Of Sorrow That You Can't Walk, Can't Cry Anymore, Think About The Green Foliage That Sparkles After The Rain. When The Daylight Exhausts You, When You Hope A Final Night Will Cover The World, Think About The Awakening Of A Young Child.