Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled.
Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan.
A strange alternative * * *Must women have a doctor or a dance?
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.
When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees