To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.

Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.

Procrastination is the thief of time; year after year it steals, till all are fled, and to the mercies of a moment leaves the vast concerns of an eternal state. At thirty, man suspects himself a fool; knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; at fifty chides his infamous delay, pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; in all the magnanimity of thought, resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same.

Affliction is a good man's shining time.

A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

Man maketh a death which Nature never made.

And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?