Edward Young

Our birth is nothing but our death begun.

I have about concluded that wealth is a state of mind, and that anyone can acquire a wealthy state of mind by thinking rich thoughts.

Born Originals , how comes it to pass that we die Copies ?

We are all born originals. Why is it so many of us die copies?

Life is the desert, life the solitude;

An undevout astronomer is mad.

To know the world, not love her, is thy point,

How science dwindles, and how volumes swell,

At thirty a man suspects himself a fool;

Be wise with speed;

One to destroy, is murder by the law;

Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.

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

A God all mercy is a God unjust.

By night an atheist half believes a God.

All men think all men mortal but themselves.

Man wants but little, nor that little long.

At thirty, a man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same.

Procrastination is the thief of time.

Be wise today; ’tis madness to defer.

Creation sleeps! ’Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.

Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep!

Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden scepter o’er a slumbering world.

The man that makes a character makes foes.

In records that defy the tooth of time.

One to destroy, is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War’s glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

Be wise with speed; A fool at forty is a fool indeed.

Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

The love of praise, howe’er conceal’d by art, Reigns more or less, and glows in ev’ry heart.