Nothing is permanent in all the world. All things are fluid; every image forms, wandering through change. Time itself flows on in constant motion, just like a river, for neither the river nor the swift hour can stop its course; but as wave impels wave, and as each wave comes, the one before is both impelled by the next and impels the one ahead, so time both flees and follows and is always new.
All things keep on in everlasting motion, out of the infinite come the particles speeding above, below, in endless dance.
My life is like a stroll upon the beach, As near the ocean's edge as I can go.