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Man left to someone also his own bout-home...
Last time in life not starving and alone...
His lovely star looking down, his river looking up!
And where is his life? Or just it was a trap?
Grigoriy Burtayev. Los Angeles.
Look down from above on the countless herds of men and their countless solemnities, and their infinitely varied voyagings in storms and calms, and the differences among those who are born, who live together, and die. and consider, too, the life lived by others in olden time, and the life of those who will live after thee, and the life now lived among barbarous nations, and how many know not even thy name, and how many will soon forget it, and how they who perhaps now are praising thee will very soon blame thee, and that neither a posthumous name is of any value, nor reputation, nor anything else. PLAY CHESS