Life Is Too Short For Chess.

Opinions Are Made To Be Changed Or How Is Truth To Be Got At?

Years Steal Fire From The Mind As Vigor From The Limb; And Life's Enchanted Cup But Sparkles Near The Brim.

But 'why Then Publish?' There Are No Rewards Of Fame Or Profit When The World Grows Weary. I Ask In Turn Why Do You Play At Cards? Why Drink? Why Read? To Make Some Hour Less Dreary. It Occupies Me To Turn Back Regards On What I've Seen Or Pondered, Sad Or Cheery, And What I Write I Cast Upon The Stream To Swim Or Sink. I Have Had At Least My Dream.

All Tragedies Are Finished By A Death, All Comedies Are Ended By A Marriage.

I Came To Realize Clearly That The Mind Is No Other Than The Mountain And The Rivers And The Great Wide Earth, The Sun And The Moon And The Sky”.