I cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when my person reflected . . .
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.
The high ideals and promises you once dressed the future in are dancing in the embers with the wind.
So many dreams, so many disappointments, so many promises. And in the end, they all just vanish.
Dreams are, by definition, cursed with short life spans.
Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day. Love's pleasure drives his love away, The painter's brush consumes his dreams.
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
I always thought it was the saddest and most devastating ending. How you could have these enormous dreams that never get met. How without knowing it you could just make yourself smaller over time. I don't want that to happen to me.
