I want not this, I want not that, already sick of Me and Thee; And if we’re both transform’d and changed, what then becomes of Thee and Me?

Enough to think such things may be: to say they are not or they are Were folly: leave them all to Fate, nor wage on shadows useless war.

Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause; He noblest lives and noblest dies who makes and keeps his self-made laws.

All other Life is living Death, a world where none but Phantoms dwell, A breath, a wind, a sound, a voice, a tinkling of the camel-bell.