This life is but a pilgrimage.

The lowest stage of humanity is experienced when the individual must labour for a small pittance of wages from others.

My brothers, the time of our lives is short,

This tiny habitation on wheels, with bit parts of the living room, the washroom, and the fireplace, is a pathetic admission that human life is no more than this: an attempt to feel at home while racing towards oblivion.

A lifetime here with you will seem to short.

So little time we live in Time, And we learn all so painfully, That we may spare this hour's term To practice for Eternity.

Life hangs from so slender a thread. Life is but a sigh...

Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.

One’s own life seemed puny against the background of so much history.

was to remember like a brief blur my life as it once was, when I was only a daughter, not a mother.

For our penitence deserves a glimpse only; our toil respite only.

Life hangs from so slender a thread. Life is but a sigh..

Brief is this existence, as a visit in a strange house. The path to be pursued is poorly lit by a flickering consciousness.

Lost somewhere between the eternity of time and immensity of space is our tiny planetary home