Procrastination is the thief of time.

The maid that loves goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, and puts her trust in miracles for safety.

Virtue alone has majesty in death.

Much learning shows how little mortals know; much wealth, how little wordlings enjoy.

Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.

The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; superior wisdom is superior bliss.

The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.

Procrastination is the thief of time.

By all means use some time to be alone.

Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.

The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done.

Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.

Read nature; nature is a friend to truth.