"We are all under sentence of death, but with a sort of indefinite reprieve."
Victor Hugo

"We are all in a race for dear life: that is to say, we are all fugitives from life."
Theodore Reik

by W.S. Merwin

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And boding not knowing to what

"Lay me in a wooden box.
Put the box in the ground."