|
|
|
|
 |
 | |  |
| The world is a shadow of what it was. The joy we know is not the joy we once knew. The sorrow we know is not the sorrow we once knew. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| The true passions have passed from the world. All that remains are their pale echoes. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| So passes the glory of a Golden Age. Arphocras hic cum Drauca bene futuit denario. | |
| | |
|
|
|
