Mentre il nothingness disegna vicino a come posso vedere inesorabilmente chiaro la mia vanit. La mia somma del worthiness sempre cos piccola, diminuisce da di meno a di meno a neanche uno.
Poich grisly il destino lo esige in fine, quanto grievous sembrano a me i sins del mio passato! Quanto acuto un bordo di coscienza pu venire essere! Quanto pitiless la chiatta della memoria!
Ye quei fieri della terra chi conteggio i vostri guadagni, che cosa li di valore per tutti i vostri dolori? La morte di E'er sbatter il portello, volont voi, come me, destino della faccia e conter il segno -- FUTILITY.
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