Lvcian

I once heard of a man who gave himself the task of portraying the world. He walked the span and stretch of either side of the sea, saw the sunrise and moonset on every corner of the heavens under the earth, saw the cities of man rise and fall, filled page after page of his memory and canvas with kingdoms, music, names, women, time, thoughts. Nothing under the sun scaped the enslaving swing of his pen.... It is told that on the eve of his death as the world withdrew from his eyes he beheld the patient labyrith of symbols he had created, and realize that as faithfully as a mirror it showed him his face.