For I realised that dying was not something new, but that on the contrary since my childhood I had already died many times.
For a while there existed within me a self which deplored the loss of these treasures, then I perceived that memory, as it withdrew from me, carried away with it this self too.
Instead of working I had lived a life of idleness, of pleasures and distractions, of ill health and cosseting and eccentricities, and I was embarking upon my labour of construction almost at the point of death, without knowing anything of my trade.
The deceptive colours of hope
Eternal duration is promised no more to men’s works than to men.