Maxioms by Edward Young
Those who build beneath the stars build too low.
Those who build beneath the stars build too low.
Is there a tongue like Delia's o'er her cup,
That runs for ages without winding up?
Is there a tongue like Delia's o'er her cup,
That runs for ages without winding up?
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty, read more
At thirty, 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.
And why? because he thinks himself immortal,
All men think all men mortal but themselves.
'Tis impious in a good man to be sad.
'Tis impious in a good man to be sad.
Man wants but little, nor that little long;
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which read more
Man wants but little, nor that little long;
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!
