Life

The weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.

Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.

The time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long.

To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.

As in a theater, the eyes of men, After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious.

The ripest fruit first falls.

For violent fires soon burn out themselves; Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short.

Make us heirs of all eternity.

To seek their fortunes further than at home, Where small experience grows.

No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en; In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast; Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

So wise so young, they say, do never live long. 4

Back and side go bare, go bare, Both foot and hand go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old.

Harvest, oh! harvest your hour While life is abloom with youth! For age with bitter ruth Will fade your beauty’s flower. 4

Live now, believe me, wait not till tomorrow; Gather the roses of life today. 2

This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passing to and fro. Deeth is an ende of every worldly soore.

What is this world? what asketh men to have? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Allone, withouten any compaignye.

And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open yë, (So priketh hem nature in hit corages); Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.

Who knows but life be that which men call death, And death what men call life?

No man loves life like him that’s growing old.

Health is so necessary to all the duties, as well as pleasures of life, that the crime of squandering it is equal to the folly.

Human beings are born into this little span of life of which the best thing is its friendships and intimacies, and soon their places will know them no more, and yet they leave their friendships and intimacies with no cultivation, to grow as they will by the roadside, expecting them to “keep” by force of inertia.

Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.