Each moment has its sickle, emulous Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root.
They most the world enjoy who least admire.
The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
As soon as we have found the key of life, it opens the gates of death.
Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Read nature; nature is a friend to truth.