What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.
Life's cares are comforts; such by Heav'n design'd; He that hath none must make them, or be wretched.
Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled.
Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.