Procrastination is the thief of time.
From Edward Young
Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform.
There is something about poetry beyond prose logic, there is mystery in it, not to be explained but admired.
The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done.
How blessings brighten as they take their flight.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.
The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.
Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship new... is neither strong nor pure.
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