My friend, let's not think of tomorrow, but let's enjoy this fleeting moment of life.

So I be written in the Book of Love. I do not care about that Book Above. Erase my name, or write it as you will. So I be written in the Book of Love.

The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.

I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.

My friend, let's not think of tomorrow, but let's enjoy this fleeting moment of life.