While man is growing, life is in decrease; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun.

Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.

The man of wisdom is the man of years.

We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!

I remember my youth and the feeling that will never come back any more - the feeling that I could last for ever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men; the d…

As life runs on, the road grows strange With faces new, and near the end The milestones into headstones change, 'Neath every one a friend.

Do not shorten the morning by getting up late, or waste it in unworthy occupations or in talk; look upon it as the quintessence of life, as to a certain extent…