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LXV



Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,

But sad mortality o\'ersways their power,

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,

Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

O! how shall summer\'s honey breath hold out,

Against the wrackful siege of battering days,

When rocks impregnable are not so stout,

Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?

O fearful meditation! where, alack,

Shall Time\'s best jewel from Time\'s chest lie hid?

Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?

Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?

  O! none, unless this miracle have might,

  That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

 	--William Shakespeare

The only real valuable thing is intuition. --Albert Einstein

LXXXI



Or I shall live your epitaph to make,

Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;

From hence your memory death cannot take,

Although in me each part will be forgotten.

Your name from hence immortal life shall have,

Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:

The earth can yield me but a common grave,

When you entombed in men\'s eyes shall lie.

Your monument shall be my gentle verse,

Which eyes not yet created shall o\'er-read;

And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse,

When all the breathers of this world are dead;

  You still shall live,--such virtue hath my pen,--

  Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.

 	--William Shakespeare