Look at athletes.  We have perfected the human body.

Look at cosmetics.  We have perfected the human face.

Look at intellectuals.  We have perfected the human mind.

Look at Jesus.  God has perfected the human heart.

Alliteration aphorisms, anyone?

Mistakes make men mourn.  Mercy motivates men majestically. 

Thunder thrusts threatening thorns throught the thickest thoughts.

Hope hastens hardened hearts to heavenly heights. 

Time, the thoughtless sniper, targets tenuous subjects, doddering in their own incipient despair.  They become enraged at the magician called Time, who played his sleight of hand right before their eyes.  Closer and closer, the trick never dissapears!  Wonder is too simple an agent to scratch the surface of this diamond box.  Again!  and again!  and again! The trick doesn’t change!  Show me this hand or that one!  Not one interrogating the magician Time could uncover the counfounded blur of a mirage.  All perambulate across the park but those who argue Time, the clock, and the hands that move slow enough for people to ponder their furious flight.   Dividing distance does not solve the frustrating riddle that isn’t a riddle at all, but it does destroy it.  People perambulating perceive nothing of the trick, for only thought of the trick would ransack all that the trick was not.  Time does not do things.  We do things.  Walk away from the curious clock and stroll into a stride that gets into a glide that fires into flight.  One stubborn about the set and fearful about the fact does not collate sense.  You crease the ground while I crease the sky.  If you figure how I did it, tell me, because I’m not even sure.  But I didn’t blast off from figuring formulas, that’s for sure.