“All the earth is a grave, and nought escapes it; nothing is so perfect that it does not fall and disappear. The rivers, brooks, fountains and waters flow on, and never return to their joyous beginnings; they hasten on to the vast realms of Tlaloc, and the wider they spread between their marges the more rapidly do they mould their own sepulchral urns. That which was yesterday is not to-day; and let not that which is to-day trust to live to-morrow.” DeathAztecsNahuatl Book:Ancient Nahuatl Poetry, Containing the Nahuatl Text of XXVII Ancient Mexican Poems : Brinton's Library of Aboriginal American Literature Number VII. Source: Ancient Nahuatl Poetry, Containing the Nahuatl Text of XXVII Ancient Mexican Poems : Brinton's Library of Aboriginal American Literature Number VII.