Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled. — 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
Day buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths. — Edward Young Copy Share Image
Born originals, how comes it to pass that we die copies? That meddling ape imitation, as soon as we come to years… — 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
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