In Our Rhythm Of Earthly Life We

The Lot Of Man Is Ceaseless Labor, Or Ceaseless Idleness, Which Is Still Harder.

Moving Between The Legs Of Tables And Of Chairs, Rising Or Falling, Grasping At Kisses And Toys, Advancing Boldly, Sudden To Take Alarm, Retreating To The Corner Of Arm And Knee, Eager To Be Reassured, Taking Pleasure In The Fragrant Brilliance Of The Christmas Tree.

The Young Feel Tired At The End Of An Action, The Old At The Beginning.

The End Is In The Beginning.

All Cases Are Unique And Very Similar To Others.