Am I alone to be forbidden to do what I will with my own?
Unrebuked, the skies now reveal the brightness of day, now shroud the daylight in the darkness of night; the year may now engarland the face of the earth with flowers and fruits, now disfigure it with storms and cold.

The sea is permitted to invite with smooth and tranquil surface to-day, to-morrow to roughen with wave and storm.

Shall man's insatiate greed bind _me_ to a constancy foreign to my character?
This is my art, this the game I never cease to play.

I turn the wheel that spins.

I delight to see the high come down and the low ascend.