Hence, in these times, untouch'd the pages lie, And slumber out their immortality.
'T was good advice, and meant, my son, Be good.
Life's bloomy flush was lost.
In idle wishes, fools supinely stay. Be there a will and wisdom finds a way.
Life is not measured by the time we live.
There is no mind so weak and powerless as not to have its inclinations, and none so guarded as to be without its prepossessions.