The busy have no time for tears.
We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath man, except man himself.
No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.
There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth; but actions are our epochs.
What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
It is odd but agitation or contest of any kind gives a rebound to my spirits and sets me up for a time.
I shall soon be six-and-twenty. Is there anything in the future that can possibly console us for not being always twenty-five?
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