We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile - The mind turns fool, before the cheek is dry
Edward YoungDay buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
Edward YoungBlest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain, It, makes us wander, wander earth around, To fly that tyrant Thought. As Atlas groan'd The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour.
Edward Young