But from my grave across my brow

Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs are little room,

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough.

The most important truth which has ever been uttered, and the greatest discovery ever made in the moral world.

The house of delusions is cheap to build, but draughty to live in, and ready at any instant to fall.

Three minutes' thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; Breath's a ware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey's over There'll be time enough to sleep.