Some Things are pressing for Birth, anb Being, and others are posting off, and that which was entire just now, is part of it spent already. The World is renew'd by this Change and Rolling, no less than Time is by a perpetual Succession. Now who wou'd Dote npon Things hurryed down the Stream thus fast, and which 'tis impossible to take hold on? Such a Passion is much like falling in Love with a Sparrow flying over your head, you have as it were but one glimps of her, and she is out of sight. To go on; Life is but a sort of Exhalation of the Blood, and a little Air sucked into the Lungs. Now to return your Breath for the support of Life , and expire your last, when you lose it, is much what the same Action.