Nations and empires flourish and decay, By turns command, and in their turns obey.
The power of the world always works in circles.
In all things there is a kind of law of cycles. [Lat., Rebus cunctis inest quidam velut orbis.]
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again! The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
For whatsoever from one place doth fall, Is with the tide unto an other brought: For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
The wheel of the Good Law moves swiftly on. It grinds by night and day. The worthless husks it drives from out the golden grain, the refuse from the flour. The hand of fate guides the wheel; the revolutions mark the beatings of the heart of manifestation.
Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and the seasons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed, and beyond all, to time.
Our passions are true phoenixes; as the old burn out the new straight rise up from the ashes.
Those who were high go down low, and those who've been low go up higher.
