Our happiness here is all vain glory,
This false world is but transitory,
The flesh is weak, the Fiend is slee
Timor mortis conturbat me.
--William Dunbar
“Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number.
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you—
Ye are many—they are few.” — Mary Shelly
