Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Youth is not rich in time; it may be poor; Part with it as with money, sparing; pay No moment but in… — 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
Procrastination is the thief of time; year after year it steals, till all are fled, and to the mercies of a moment… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
“Think naught a trifle, though it small appear: Small sands the mountain, moments make the year, And trifles life. ” — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade! — Edward Young Copy Share Image
The bell strikes One. We take no note of time But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment… — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Each moment has its sickle, emulous Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done. — 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
Think naught a trifle, though it small appear; Small stands the mountain, moments make the year, and trifles life. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
We push time from us, and we wish him back; * * * * * * Life we think long and short; death seek and shun. — 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