Yet man dies not whilst the world, at once his mother and his monument, remains. His name is lost, indeed, but the breath he breathed still stirs the pine-tops on the mountains, the sound of the words he spoke yet echoes on through space; the thoughts his brains gave birth to we have inherited today; his passions are our cause of life; the joys and sorrows that he knew are our familiar friends - the end from which he fled aghast will surely overtake us also!
Sist sett
