Be wise with speed; A fool at forty is a fool indeed.
Edward Young
Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Virtue alone has majesty in death.
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
Procrastination is the thief of time.
Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.