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Edward Young
Quote #59
Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
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We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!
While man is growing, life is in decrease; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
The man of wisdom is the man of years.
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
By night an atheist half believes a God.
Revere thyself, and yet thyself despise.
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