Homer calls man a leaf, the smallest Pindar calls him the dream of a shadow, another, the dream of a shadow of smoke but St. And so he dances out the gaiety of his youth, and is all the while in a storm, and endures only because he is not knocked on the head by a drop of bigger pain, or crushed by the pressure of a load of undigested meat, or quenched by the disorder of an ill-placed humour. But if the bubble stands the shock of a bigger drop, and outlives the chance of a child or a careless nurse, or drowning in a pail of water, or being overlaid by a sleepy servant, or such little accidents, then the young man dances like a bubble, empty and gay, and shines like a dove's neck, or the image of a rainbow, which has no substance, and whose very imagery and colours are fantastical. "Others ride longer in the storm, maybe until seven years of vanity be expired and then, preadventure, the sun shines hot upon their heads, and they fall into the shades below, into the cover of death and darkness and the grave to hide them. He comes into the world like morning mushrooms, soon thrustling up their heads into the air, and conversing with their kindred of the same production, and as soon as they turn to dust and forgetfulness, some of them without any other interest in the affairs of the world, but that they made their parents a little glad and very sorrowful." The Dream Of A Shadow Of Smoke by Current 93 on Island (1991) "So is every man.
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