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Edward Young
Quote #61
The man of wisdom is the man of years.
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While man is growing, life is in decrease; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun.
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Revere thyself, and yet thyself despise.
We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see!
Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps; And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself. Virtu…
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
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