"Why this laboursome petition to eternity; the very stream of his life is sea is sicklied over with spasmodic pleasures and strange entertainments, a scalding brothel with delusions that swallow and gnaw; every night is the longest one. Man troubles a sigh so piteous and profound; the nightingale could not sing a sweeter proclamation, and in one breath repels immortal blessing from his lips.
To tell you plain, the weakness of man is not fit for the golden cast of longevity. His imperfection sears the very ecstasy of love and in truth profanes the pith and marrow of nature's translumined web. His childish world breeds violence and folly; Foul and fragile, his clay-struck gaze sets upon the distant stars in brave imitation of that which he is ill-designed to grasp. The adventurous knight mocks his days; his babble could not with graceful prose attest the patience of a saint, nor nourish a goblin damn'd, nor tame a dragon's eternal flame. Man is a brain fit for accidents, a victim of his own dream; the idiot drown'd in primal sea of unchanging folly."
From "The satirical puppet casts the shadow of a god"