We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like

Like One Who Draws The Model Of A House Beyond His Power To Build It Who, Half Through, Gives O'er, And Leaves His Part-created Cost A Naked Subject To The Weeping Clouds.

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.

I Am Declined Into The Vale Of Years.

Omittance Is No Quittance.

Sometimes, Less Is More.