The little that we do Is but half-nobly true; With our laborious hiving What men call treasure, and the gods call dross, Life seems a jest of Fate's contriving, Only secure in every one's conniving, A long account of nothings paid with loss.
The thing is ... nothing’s as easy as we'd like it to be. ... And the real trouble comes from not knowing what we really want in the first place.charles de lint
Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.jane austen
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