know that
thy life
is a
flitting
state, a
tent for a
night, and
do thou,
sick or
well,
finish
that
stint.
Thou art
sick, but
shalt not
be worse,
and the
universe,
which
holds thee
dear,
shall be
the
better.
Human life
is made up
of the two
elements,
power and
form, and
the
proportion
must be
invariably
kept if we
would have
it sweet
and sound.
Each of
these
elements
in excess
makes a
mischief
as hurtful
as its
defect.
Everything
runs to
