Time is the wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth. - Rabindranath Tagore

If he is weak enough to grow smaller to fit himself to his covering, then it becomes a process of gradual suicide by shrinkage of the soul.

I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power, that the path before me was closed, that provisions were exhausted, and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity, but I find that thy will knows no end in me, and when old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart, and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.

Asks the Possible to the Impossible, "Where is your dwelling place?" "In the dreams of the impotent," comes the answer.