Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Some go to Church, proud humbly to repent, And come back much more guilty than they went: One way they look, another… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
As soon as we have found the key of life, it opens the gates of death. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
We see time's furrows on another's brow, And death intrench'd, preparing his assault; How few themselves in that just mirror see! — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Our birth is nothing but our death begun; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule; Life's theatre as yet is shut,… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Day buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine To tread out empire, and to quench the stars. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate,… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. — Edward Young Copy Share Image